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Their eyes met, and neither spoke. He was staring at her as if she were a visitant from another world, and she met his gaze unflinchingly.
He tried to speak, but nothing came from his throat but a slurred growl; and then, turning violently, he almost ran down the path; the perspiration rolling down his face, his mouth dry with fear; for Elsa Cornford had that half of his secret which the master of Wold House did not guess.
CHAPTER VI
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Hamon Tells His News
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"Wasn't that thunder?" asked Lord Creith, and raised his hand to hide a yawn.
Joan sympathised with his boredom, for the dinner had seemed interminable.
"Sounds like it," said Hamon, rousing himself with a start from an unpleasant reverie.
The three people had scarcely spoken through the meal. Once Lord Creith had made a pointed reference to the dullness of the country and the fun that a man of Ralph Hamon's quality could find in town, but the financier had ignored his opportunity.
"It is thunder," said Creith with satisfaction. "October is rather late for storms. I remember when I was a boy...."