"By the avenger of his family's dishonour—by your brother," he replied, coolly. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. The gong will go at seven-thirty. The major himself told me that this secret passage started upstairs. His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears.
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