But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. She put her clothes back on, 118 lipstick smeared all over her face. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. “So very clear and cold,” she said. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible.
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