" "Didn't the natives have a name for you?" She blushed. "Oh! Jack! Jack!—you little know what a price I've paid for you!" "Well, I'm glad those women are gone," remarked Shotbolt. She was radiant. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. .
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