“Hello?” She asked as she cradled the phone by her ear. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. She had a gold watch, a very good gold watch that had been her mother’s, a pearl necklace that was also pretty good, some unpretending rings, some silver bangles and a few other such inferior trinkets, three pounds thirteen shillings unspent of her dress and book allowance and a few good salable books. "One of us has got to die," he panted. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not.
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