On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. " "A jewel-case!" exclaimed Jonathan. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. He saw that she was tense. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her.
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