It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. Capes most unfair,” Miss Klegg went on in a small, even voice; “MOST unfair! I’m glad you spoke out as you did. I asked him—to take me away. So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures. These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees. Wood fancied he recognised. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. The man looked hard at him. ’ ‘Yes, but in fact you’ve offered me far more entertainment than any French spy could have done. ‘Suzanne, if I may say, had also not the choice. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go.
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