’ ‘You know, Gerald,’ Lucilla put in thoughtfully, forestalling a withering rejoinder from the captain, ‘there may be something in that. It would be the wrappered world almost at its best. I've my own reasons for disliking this job. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. But it sounds too real to be imagined. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. I'll tell you what. Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased. Their conversation hung.
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