He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. ’ Kimble chewed his lip, but his hostility was visibly lessening. Wood," urged Jack. “I refuse. "Because it's not like you," was her answer. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. “I doubted my luck, at least. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature.
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