CHAPTER XXIX. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. "Anything else?" "Your waistcoat. It was not your fault you failed. Wood, at the top of her voice. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. I mean—I mean to do what I can. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. ” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. And after that Alice became remoter than ever, and, after a time, ill. He went by another name then,—Rykhart Scherprechter I think he called himself.
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