He was helpful, but gravely dubious. "One last embrace. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. "Choose between good and evil;— between him and me. ’ The girl glanced up the road and turned back, annoyance in her face. ‘Jacques?’ ‘No. She heard the television blaring away. Maybe it’s his loss. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. Why had he glanced up—quite in that way?. . There's not his peer among the peerage.
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