Besides," she added, blushing yet more deeply, "it isn't a proper one to talk upon. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. . There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. Of course, one doesn’t like to talk about things until there are things to talk about.
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