” “What is there to be feared?” he asked her quietly. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. ‘Never fear, my love. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. It was impulsive and natural. It feels like I’ve got a snake of mucus stuffing my entire throat, just one big solid rope. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing.
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