97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. That paper must be signed, or I take my departure.
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