His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. ” She pointed to the envelope still resting upon the mantelpiece. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. Partly, from your confessor; partly, from other sources. She’s got a great imagination. " "So I perceive," said Ruth, withdrawing her hands. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes.
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