“Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. ’ ‘But you mind that I say I do not trust you. ’ ‘Pray don’t,’ begged Mrs Sindlesham, one eye on the general’s embattled features. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. The executioner shook his head. “You may talk—if you can talk cheerfully, not unless.
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