In military circles, highly exaggerated tales of Major Alderley’s derring-do were bruited from lip to lip and passed on to raw recruits to strengthen morale. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. He rested on one elbow. Had Valade been to see him? Possibly even yesterday when he was followed by some young lad—and the girl, of course. He had sufficient strength to wait upon himself. They began to wrestle fiercely.
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