I’d rather not go,” she added. "But trifle with mo no longer. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. ’ ‘From a convent? Even if I wished to do it, I could not. I ought never to have thought of it. I’ve been waiting a long time for you.
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