This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek. This time she was indeed beaten. Then he opened the study door and called “Mollie!” and returned to assume an attitude of authority on the hearthrug, before the blue flames and orange glow of the gas fire. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. I must say what I have to say!” “But not now—not here.
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