A sob was strangled in her throat. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. “Not possible. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. ” “Excuse me? You are Hitler Youth?” Lucy replied, astounded. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude.
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