She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. This time there wasn't any doubt. One cannot expect that soldiers can be sympathique to one they believe may be a French spy. ” She nodded in the affirmative. “No, no, no. ” “My dear young lady,” the official said irritably, “this man would not have your name and address in his pocket without an object. ’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought.
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