Lucy didn’t seem like a teenage girl at all to Sheila and she knew it. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. ‘Major Gerald Alderley, mademoiselle, quite at your service. You're in luck to-night, widow. I have a big breakfast. ‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. 1.
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