“Well,” she admitted. ” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. " "Why, my love," rejoined her husband, "appearances, you must allow, were a little against you. ‘I’m determined to find out all about you, mademoiselle. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. ” “It’s so strange to think of you—troubled by such things. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. " And Blueskin withdrew. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again.
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