Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. “There’s no one here except me. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. We’ve done nothing to deserve it.
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