‘Hilary is a darling. . She had killed him. Sheppard. Selling out of the Army to take up his inheritance had spelled boredom to Gerald Alderley. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Arriving at the chapel, their wonder increased. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. She tried to appear as if she had never been questioned before. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. A quick flush stained her cheeks. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed.
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