He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. The room seemed a vacuum. ’ ‘Oh, don’t I? What do you have under all those petticoats, a holster?’ ‘But yes, and they are empty. ‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger.
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