His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business. ’ ‘It is so in a convent, you see,’ she explained airily. "I'd forgotten. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. It was explosive and gratifying.
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