But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. He got up. “There are a good many Whites in London. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. Then he had gone away. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. Perhaps that other boy who visited you backstage at the concert.
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