It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. ‘Yes, a very sad story,’ agreed the major. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. Just as he reached them, the Comte de St Erme drew Valade a little apart and began to converse with him in rapid French.
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