"I guessed as much. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. " Still his brain refused to assimilate the news or to deduce the tremendous importance of it. ’ She sniffed and swallowed. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre. . He fixed it. Gerald had been confident that the boy would not dream of disobeying an order thrown at him by a major of militia, but he guessed Jack might be wondering if he was about to be haled off to prison. After all, life had still its pulsations. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this. .
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