“You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. I know nothing about the girl, save what you have told me. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. ‘Come, Hilary. Why?" "I was just wondering.
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