’ ‘Sir!’ called Trodger, as the captain began to lead the young lady off. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Was the man debating whether or no to tell the truth? A grimace played about Valade’s mouth and the general waited, maintaining his own rigid pose. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister.
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