It is not the woman who speaks there. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. The quarry had passed out into the open sea. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. ‘Me, I am tout à fait stupide. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me.
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