By following her he had discovered her secret nook in the rocks. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. CHAPTER XXIX. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. ’ ‘Then they are soldiers. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool.
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