” For a time she sat on a rail before leaving the road for the downland turf. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. “I got Sydney’s telegram at ten o’clock, and caught the ten-thirty from the Gare du Nord. But only inside, you understand, that one cannot see it. I am not come here to play the part of your father-confessor. ” He handed her the phone reluctantly, barely masking his mild disgust. ’ She bit her lip and thought deeply.
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