‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. He bowed awkwardly to Mrs. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy.
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