He forced her arm back, away, stretching it out to keep the weapon at bay. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. “Go on,” he said. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. It was so hopeless to put it to them. “You ought at once—you ought at once to have told her that. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all.
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