I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. "You've been quizzing my friend Kent, I perceive, in your Burlington Gate. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. There's my thumb upon it. Be silent, I say, if you value his safety. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. She was ushered into the back of the squad car.
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