And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. I merely mention these circumstances to show the accuracy of my information. I leaned over and looked at him—he was quite still. Presently he felt motion. Before Wood had time to inquire into the cause of this sound, his attention was diverted by a man, who rushed past the entry with the swiftness of desperation. It’s kind of the World War II thing. “Well?” he asked her tersely.
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