She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. Why, is the question I would like answered.
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