’ ‘I have found Mary Remenham’s daughter,’ he repeated. ’ ‘Yes, but when I think about this, I do not think I can do so,’ she said candidly. And then her pace slackened. “I dare not,” she answered. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases.
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