‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French. Mr. Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint four days ago? I told you my turn would come. They were the same. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. And he did not lack courage.
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