” “I’ll wait, then. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. ‘I do not command your services, mon major. ‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. ” He began. " "It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing.
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