Wood uttered something like an imprecation. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. "What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. Thanks. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me.
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