“Why could you not confide in us?” “Do what?” said Ann Veronica. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. I may say that the amount of the annuity I propose to allow you is two hundred a year. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. I’ve accustomed myself to think of you— as if you were like every other girl who works at the schools—as something quite outside these possibilities.
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