There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Miss Charvill. ” “Yes, yes. One peculiarity she did not fail to notice. \"I don't think so. Now, in her old place, she was doing her best thoroughly to enjoy a most indifferent dinner. And experience was slow in coming. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again.
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