Then came the javelin-men, walking four abreast, and lastly, a long line of constables, marching in the same order. They are not your children, they never were. Austin. Long ago. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone.
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