But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. CHAPTER XXIII. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day. The boy was bright and inquisitive as he was subtle. “Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested. She was powerless to move from her chair.
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