Mrs Sindlesham occupied a large padded armchair to one side of a corner fireplace, which gave out a heat more than adequate for September to one of the major’s robust constitution. But he had now lost the precise spot; and thinking he had examined the drain, turned his attention to another quarter. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. Her thoughts took words for themselves. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. ‘You don’t know him. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face.
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