She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. “She can’t. Don't lay it all to the boy. ” “I want you to turn me. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions.
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