’ Gerald tutted. She pursued her interest in the Socialist movement and in the Suffragist agitation in the company of Miss Miniver. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me.
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