As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. " The clock tinkled ten. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. He did not particularly care. I have only just left Wych Street. Only last night she saw me, and there was horror in her eyes.
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