Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “Jacques is wounded and we are arrested by this imbecile of a sergeant. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. Rollo began to cavort. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth.
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