’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. ’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. Sebastian leapt down into the crypt. F. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. Her confession was still unmade.
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