“Rummy lot we are!” said Roddy. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. “What were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. He backed away from her. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely.
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