CHAPTER XVI. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. “Love should be enough, John, but it never is. "And now, Mrs. " "I've no intention of stirring," replied the woollen-draper, who was thus unceremoniously disturbed: "and I beg you'll sit down, Mr. “You will not give Sir John any cause for jealousy? You will have no secrets from him except—concerning those things which are past?” “Anna, I swear it!” her sister sobbed. ” “To know things by name is one thing; to know them by seeing them and feeling them and being them quite another. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. . ’ ‘But I have told you not,’ she protested. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack.
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