Langley is getting up, and coming this way. But it would be too risky. ‘If you love me, you will say it, or else I will blow off your head. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence.
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