“It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said. Then her fingers moved. “There is my aunt,” she said. The policeman raised his voice, slightly agitated. Plote was sleeping or deaf. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. ” “Not for you?” “No. He smothered it down with such a good will that the reaction set his heart to pounding.
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