The image of Major Alderley came into her mind. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. "Who's there?" cried Rachel. "Enschede!" he called.
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