The Hollow of Her Hand by George Barr McCutcheon
page 49 of 500 (09%)
page 49 of 500 (09%)
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man back there at the inn. Twenty-four hours passed before they
were able to identify him. It is not unlikely that to-morrow may put them in possession of the name of the woman who went with him to that place. They do not know it to-night, of that I am positive. You covered your trail too well. But you must have been seen with him during the day or the night--" The other broke in eagerly: "I don't believe any one knows that I--that I went out there with him. He arranged it very--carefully. Oh, what a beast he was!" The bitterness of that wail caused the woman beside her to cry out as if hurt by a sharp, almost unbearable pain. For an instant she seemed about to lose control of herself. The car swerved and came dangerously near to leaving the road. A full minute passed before she could trust herself to speak. Then it was with a deep hoarseness in her voice. "You can tell me about it later on, not now. I don't want to hear it. Tell me, where do you live?" The girl's manner changed so absolutely that there could be but one inference: she was acutely suspicious. Her lips tightened and her figure seemed to stiffen in in the seat. "Where do you live?" repeated the other sharply. "Why should I tell you that? I do not know you. You--" "You are afraid of me?" |
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