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Page 263
When Mrs. Bates had first looked after Peter and then stared at her, Linda had felt a warm rush of pleasure. It seemed for that instant that news of the relationship between her and Peter would be more welcome than she had expected. But the old lady's last words about "something . . . safe" had sent a sudden chill through her. Her lips parted to speak, but she found she had nothing to say; she swallowed hard and cleared her throat lightly.
As if the soft sound had brought her to herself, Mrs. Bates laughed somewhat self-consciously and murmured, "I really am tired. Good night, my dear."
Linda went slowly up to her room to get a jacket. The days were warm, almost hot, but the nights were cool. Her hand fell on her navy blue raincoat, and she slipped it on. It was not very appropriate with a long black skirt but her working-girl front did not run to an evening cloak, and the wooly white coat she had worn in England's autumn weather was too warm. Besides, it would stand out like a beacon in the moonlight.
She made her way down the stairs cautiously. It would be easy enough to say she was going out for a walk if anyone asked, but Linda preferred not to tell lies, even innocent ones, if she could avoid them. The dining room was dark, the servants finished clearing, she was glad to see, and she moved through it carefully, closing the glass doors gently behind her. When she was about halfway down to the gazebo,

 
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