He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House.
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