For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. Mrs Sindlesham occupied a large padded armchair to one side of a corner fireplace, which gave out a heat more than adequate for September to one of the major’s robust constitution. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. “We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. To prevent the recurrence of any such escape as that just described, it was deemed expedient, in more recent times, to keep a watchman at the top of Newgate.
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