As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. " "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him. “That is where I got confused,” he said. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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