Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. I saw the motor dashed to pieces against the wall, and I saw him pitched on his head into the road. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud.
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