“It was the night you left Paris. . And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. The young man had knocked over the siphon. Such of his features as were visible were of coarse mould. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. ‘Come, mademoiselle. She looked about, watching a massive green storm cloud building in the west.
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