\"Oh. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ” He stopped abruptly. Amiable and good-looking. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. “Ever yours, “ANNABEL. ’ Triumph leapt in Gerald’s chest. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. "I don't know. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed.
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