And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. “Please don’t be sad. “There were some Hampshire Pellissiers. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. Which was not to say that ladies were not interested in him.
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