‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. I’ve been wondering where she got her dogged will, and that hot-headed adventurous spirit, for it wasn’t from either Mary or Nicholas, that’s sure. But he can't have his eyes always about him, or he'd have been with us this morning at the Mint, eh, Mr. By the side of her plate was a small key. But it is no longer necessary. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down.
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