“You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. “I have spoken too many truths to-night. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. “It is true. Collins, you can go now. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes.
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