Miss Susan Baird let her gaze rest on her companion in speculative silence. Apparently, her last jibe had failed of its mark, judging from the man's unchanged expression. With a vexed sigh she proceeded to pour out another cup of tea. They were an oddly matched pair. Miss Baird, still erect in spite of her seventy years, her small slight figure tucked into one corner of the carved, throne-shaped chair which was her habitual seat when in her library, appeared dwarfed in comparison with the broad-shouldered, powerfully built man who faced her across the tea table.…
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