Dump popped his head into the cage. “Yeah, I know. “I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms,” she said. A sophisticated woman would have translated the tone as a caress. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear.
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