Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Thank goodness you’ll understand. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. Hoddy! All her fears fell away. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. The minute he discovers Roding here, he’ll know something is up. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. She had expected sympathetic admiration, but instead the whole Widgett family, except Teddy, expressed a common dismay.
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