Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. She stood looking down upon him with dilated eyes. “Anyway, enough about that. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness.
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