‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank. ‘Oh, are there? You are not quite alone in these adventures of yours, I take it. Sanguine they were not. And yet—you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination. Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her hand.
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