Very well. She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. She lost it in the Mint. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves.
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