‘I think,’ he said pleasantly, ‘that it would be as well if you, Hilary, were to go and fetch the troops. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. “There wasn’t.
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