“Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. "If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. “He naturally does not wish for connexions which are—I do not wish to hurt you feelings, Anna, but I must say it—not altogether desirable. . ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. "What's the matter?" he cried. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. “All right?” asked the man with the light eyelashes, suddenly appearing in the doorway.
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