"It is", seplied Winifred; "have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!" "Troth have I!" replied Terence: "but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that?" "Is he well?—is he safe?—is he coming back," cried the little girl, disregarding the question. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. ‘You didn’t understand it any better than I. —I'll soon find you out. Why should you wish to forget it? Unless it is that you did not enjoy it. ” “By all means,” Brendon answered. " "Footsteps are approaching," cried Thames. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. Suddenly she became aware of the fact that he had brought no lunch.
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