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‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. “I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. She decided not to ask him outright if he wished to make love to her. On his appearance, Jack levelled a pistol at his head. It might be that the boy had taken one drink too many, or someone had given him knock-out drops.
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