Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. They don’t count, and I don’t care. You make a game with me, imbecile. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered.
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