’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. Well, whenever you say, I promise to do away with the mystery. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. This at once thrilled her and worried her. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. ” “You and I and Brendon get on all right, don’t we?” Sydney objected.
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