Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. The future Mrs Roding turned bright, laughing eyes on the major. She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. "Mr. Can't I make you understand? Perhaps it sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be cruel defensively. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe.
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