’ It was thus in stony silence that the pair traversed the short distance to Stratton Street, where Roding knocked on the major’s door and entered a pleasant woodpanelled hall, with his prisoner firmly in tow. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. On the Day he had trumpet-like outbreaks of cordiality, varied by a watchful preoccupation. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. “Stop!” He ran towards her. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour.
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