She moved a little nearer to him. So far as I'm concerned, nothing could please me more. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed.
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