How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. But she did not speak. Then she would be dead, and that was no use. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. Each of my scholars thinks it his own shirt. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. But I don’t wish to hear that abomination on her lips again. ‘Yes, I know. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions.
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