" "You are offering your hand to me?" "Without reservations. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. ” Sir John clutched at the table with both hands. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her.
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