As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. But at the word “home” she turned again. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice. ‘That’s just it. "The manager says there is still some doubt. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens.
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