He caught the elderly dame’s eye, throwing her a desperate message. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. Charvill’s fury was burning out. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. The air was pungent and leaden. One peculiarity she did not fail to notice. .
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