Her head swam. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life. And nearly all these things were fearfully ill-paid. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire. I have an idea that you are in some sort of trouble. But at the word “home” she turned again. “Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him immediately before your arrival—or rather if it was not himself the person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you arrived. Keep up the clamour for five minutes, and I'll finish it.
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