The perception of him flooded her being. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. There was no one to be seen in the great hall. “This is all very well,” she said, “but two out of the three are rank deserters— and if the papers tell the truth the third is as bad. Major said you’d gorn. Her unnatural calm was giving way. The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. Here was the corner-stone of a capital story; but he knew that Howard Spurlock would never write it. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action.
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