Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. And he had gone away without knowing the truth! "My proa boys are ready; the wind is brisk; and in an hour we shall be beyond all pursuit. . ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease.
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