Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches.
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