‘I know what it means, numbskull! Didn’t spend years in the confounded country without picking up some of their infernal tongue. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence.
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