Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. Upon which Mrs. What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. “These clothes are French, and I’m sure this floppy bow would make a Frenchman of me anyhow.
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