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Without a word, the general reached out and took them, but his glance searched the girl’s face. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. For she needed him. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. ” She stopped with an air of interrogation. CHAPTER I. . You never can tell.

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