Light flooded the place. Captain Roding strode into the parlour. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. It seems to me very silly. “Well——” She stopped short. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. Don’t say the wretch was also following Valade.
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