“But—your people!” she gasped. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. It jars with all my ideas. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted 385 XVII. ‘One would take it that the house had been ransacked. I wonder what it was. No mercenary consideration influences me. " CHAPTER XIX.
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