Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Wood could stand it no longer. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. Jonathan mixed with the group, and, sure of his prey, abided his time. Luckily, Sir James was so much engrossed by his own task, that both the remark and gesture escaped him. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen. “Look at our clothes,” she exclaimed, “and besides, the funny little proprietor has gone down himself to help it along. " "I will be there," answered Trenchard, gloomily.
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