She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Not far from the entrance, on the left, was a sort of screen, or partition-wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, formed of thick oaken planks riveted together by iron bolts, and studded with broad-headed nails. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia. I shall borrow it and apply it to you, Hilary.
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