“You told me that your name was Meysey Hill. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. Her fingers opened and the weapon fell from her nerveless grasp. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. There was no one to be seen. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis.
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