I suppose I ought to have been a man. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. I feel a mixture of beast and uncle. It could not be a legal marriage. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. ’ ‘Ha! You’re Catholic, too, damn his eyes,’ growled the general. “Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said.
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