He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. . Her cheeks were aflame. ‘I suppose I need not ask to which other soldier you refer. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror.
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