But before he could say anything, the vehicle rolled to a halt. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. He had found her in a communicative mood, and he used the accumulated skill of years in turning that to account. It may be, it probably will all come to, nothing. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned.
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