" He rose for fear she might touch him again. It's only right that his people should know where he is and what has happened to him. You dear, dear girl. His mouth was sensuous but his eyes became frenetic. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life.
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