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’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. She knew that babies came from the womb; her womb had fallen out with her baby. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. “You can’t think that I’m fool enough to be put off like this. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day. Yet you knew that I was not dead. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. ’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror.
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