“Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. But it was of no avail. Please sit with me. ‘You, Mademoiselle Charvill, are as unlike most of your sex as you can be. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night. Stood on his dignity and shut us up in great style. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. Hugging them, they crept stealthily around the house, Major Alderley leading, and wasting—so his captain acidly commented—a deal of time checking the windows and doors. All of us were fussy, colicky babies from what she tells me. I am a man—of a sort of experience.
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