She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. ‘I think,’ he said pleasantly, ‘that it would be as well if you, Hilary, were to go and fetch the troops. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. She may address me as “Grandfather” if she chooses, since I’m obliged to accept her in that capacity. Not MY affair.
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