“You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. "I should call it putting him out of the way. "How, Sir?" "Except by adoption.
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