Loder was silent for a second, then he too laughed--Chilcote's
short, sarcastic laugh. "And you tied up the wound, I suppose?"
She glanced up, half displeased. "We were both staying at the
little inn," she said, as though no further explanation could
be needed. Then again her manner changed. She moved
imperceptibly nearer and touched his right hand. His left,
which was farther away from her, was well in the shadow of the
cushions.
"Jack," she said, caressingly, "it isn't to tell you this
stupid old story that I've brought you here; it's really to
tell you a sort of sequel." She stroked his hand gently once
or twice. "As I say, I met this man and we--we had an affair.
You understand? Then we quarrelled--quarrelled quite badly
--and I came away. I've remembered him rather longer than I
remember most people--he was one of those dogged individuals
who stick in one's mind. But he has stayed in mine for
another reason--" Again she looked up. "He has stayed
because you helped to keep him there.
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