Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. ‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. ‘Why, you have heard yourself all that is being said. We hide it bravely, but so it is. ’ ‘Well, don’t bite my head off,’ protested Mrs Sindlesham, clearly amused. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. She hastened past. ‘The major thinks she’s worth it,’ put in Prudence quietly. Her neck was smeared with red and remorse flooded him. Lad, I admire you even in your folly.
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