” “Why?” Mr. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. ’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. He roused curiosities. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches.
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