I might as well be at Morningside Park. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. He too, when she had disappeared, called a carriage. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her.
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