’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. She traced him by his scent. ’ Mrs Sindlesham’s lips twitched. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful. I hated him.
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