’ 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. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. A man as rich as you are ought to have a thousand-ton yacht. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week! Preaching grandiloquently before a few score natives who understood little beyond the gestures, for the single purpose of warding off disintegration! It reminded the doctor of a stubborn retreat; from barricade to barricade, grimly fighting to keep the enemy at bay, that insidious enemy of the white man in the South Seas—inertia. ’ He sighed. ‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. . Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. "You have behaved like a man of honour, Sir Rowland," said Wild, after he had twice told over the money. ” She said, ignoring the absurdity of her own statement. I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes before we entered it last night. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved.
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