He won’t be in uniform. ’ ‘Take care,’ warned Hilary, his eyes on his improvised bandage. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. “These clothes are French, and I’m sure this floppy bow would make a Frenchman of me anyhow. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. Kneebone.
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