He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. He dared not go on. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. But all that could be ascertained in the village was, that a man had ridden off a short time before in the direction of London. Nobody knows what his real name is, but he's a Hollander. One gets drawn into things.
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