She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. She rose to the fire to stoke it. 3. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet.
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