‘He had run away with a Frenchwoman, you see, but Everett Charvill—I refer to the general—took care to conceal the matter. “Yes, aren’t they?” said Ann Veronica, after a thoughtful pause. She felt terrible lying to him. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed.
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