It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. . “Do not be frightened, dear,” she said. I’ve never met any one like you. " He summoned another "boy" and rumbled some Cantonese. “And yet I wonder whether the world ever held such another enigma in her sex. “But Julian, we don’t even know each other!” She exclaimed. On the way home he was still thoughtful. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. She felt she must fly before it and could no longer do so.
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