Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. After this occurence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping. “It’s a new phase in the life history,” he remarked. It was clear that he meant to kiss her before she exited the car. Hugging them, they crept stealthily around the house, Major Alderley leading, and wasting—so his captain acidly commented—a deal of time checking the windows and doors. He read the Times with an unusually passionate intentness, and then declared suddenly for the earlier of the two trains he used. “You doubted me?” She joked. That old world that had shoved up that silly old hotel, and all the rest of it. ‘Wait! No time for that.
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