It slipped out—as did that “she”. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. ‘I’ll get the key,’ said Roding, turning abruptly. Miss Charvill.
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