Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. He told me that he was a millionaire. She had just passed into a little antechamber beyond when she suddenly heard a faint knocking. ’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand.
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