Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. She did not see Sebastian turn towards the boy and his family, but every hair on the back of her neck stood up rigidly. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. “My word holds,” she said. . ’ ‘But the general gave his permission.
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