Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. ‘Tell me what you know of Miss Charvill?’ he ordered severely. That she had not bought one piece of linen subtly established in Ah Cum's mind the fact that she had no home, that the instinct was not there, or she would have made some purchase against the future.
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