With a little sigh of happiness she accepted this new thing. CHAPTER XVII. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. McClintock sent his yacht over for us this morning. Once more he was the searcher. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him. But, moving through into the first of the large main rooms that led one into another around the house, with here and there an antechamber between, it was obvious that the task was not going to be easy. "One of us has got to die," he panted. The minute he discovers Roding here, he’ll know something is up.
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