He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. En tout cas, why had he not returned? She pondered the question as, later, she paced about her favourite retreat.
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