” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. I want to know who sent you those. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. My servant. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest.
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