She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. “I have learned that. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. I would have liked to know. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels. ’ ‘Get going, then,’ Trodger told his men.
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