He had reacted by laughing at her, informing her coolly that she was naïve in many things. With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast. He continued thoughtfully. ‘Exactly like my father. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. Little did he know that she had begged her parents as a youngster to get her a language tutor. This lifeless appearance was heightened by the extreme sharpness of her features—especially the nose and chin,—and by the emaciation of her limbs, which was painfully distinct through her drapery. I know the Dutch. He was mad.
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