Even our coarseness. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. "I have a client who is very much interested in Mr. O'Higgins was to keep track of you until I believed you had had enough punishment. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof.
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