‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. Her husband finally relented.
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