She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. Everything in the world had changed for her. But he did not follow on with the thought. Not at all. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. Arrived at the extremity of the building, he found that it overlooked the flat-roof of a house which, as far as he could judge in the darkness, lay at a depth of about twenty feet below.
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