He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. "There is Dollis Hill," said the man, pointing to a well-wooded eminence about a mile distant, "and there," he added, indicating the roof of a house just visible above a grove of trees "is Mr. Come along, master. “You’re wanted for questioning, miss. We can’t. Hilary started after her, but Gerald stopped him.
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