It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. Then Sheila noticed the stains. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. ‘But he must have—’ ‘Nicholas Charvill never did anything he must do,’ Mrs Sindlesham said evenly. "I'll not believe it. "I suppose it didn't drop through the ceiling, did it? Are you quite sure it's flesh and blood?" asked he, playfully pinching its arm till it cried out with pain. ’ ‘Pray don’t,’ begged Mrs Sindlesham, one eye on the general’s embattled features.
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