Too late now. Yet she took with her an uneasy consciousness that in this affair might lie the germs of future trouble. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. I want to know—just as much as I can. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission. We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket.
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