He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. I’m a soldier, you see. “I’m thirsty. . ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. For a nun at night it is less dangerous than for the jeune demoiselle. Ann Veronica had no answer for a moment. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel.
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