" But he searched in vain. Then he stood up and repeated it again. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. ***** Coconuts grew perpetually. ’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. I'm speaking of virtuous women—of WIVES, Madam. I called myself Anna. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. Then he turned on his heel and walked off. His hands were exploring her once again in the car. And if he would, I would not subject him to the annoyance. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon.
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