"Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. " "It wouldn't surprise me if he did," remarked Griffin. "Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. She took some shirts, underwear, shoes, a duffel bag, and his wallet to make it look like he had gone a-traveling. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. “Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. The rest she meant to keep for her immediate necessities. It took all my self control not to let my hands wander.
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