[The Snare by Rafael Sabatini]@TWC D-Link book
The Snare

CHAPTER III
11/19

She was tall and of a clean-limbed, supple grace, now emphasised by the riding-habit which she was wearing--for she had been in the saddle during the hour which Lady O'Moy had consecrated to the rites of toilet and devotions done before her mirror.

Dark-haired, dark-eyed, vivacity and intelligence lent her countenance an attraction very different from the allurement of her cousin's delicate loveliness.

And because her countenance was a true mirror of her mind, she argued shrewdly now, so shrewdly that she drove O'Moy to entrench himself behind generalisations.
"My dear Sylvia, war is most merciful where it is most merciless," he assured her with the Irish gift for paradox.

"At home in the Government itself there are plenty who argue as you argue, and who are wondering when we shall embark for England.

That is because they are intellectuals, and war is a thing beyond the understanding of intellectuals.


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