But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. ” “Would not do what?” “Well, follow buses from Russell Square to Hampstead.
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