They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. “Unless you have an appointment, which you haven’t,” he said, “you’ll only waste your time here. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. He was caressing an idea. Ennison?” Sir John hesitated.
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