One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. You had better go to bed. She took his hand in hers. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. “Please come home.
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