Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. I’m sorry. Toys! Delicate trifles! A sex of invalids. The future Mrs Roding turned bright, laughing eyes on the major. Already she had sent him twenty pounds, and never written to explain to him why it was she had not sent it back sharply directly he returned it.
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