" "I'll bet she still smells to heaven with sour coconut. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. Wood," urged Jack. " "What's that?" asked Wood with some curiosity. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. ” “Some little tiff?” “No; but I don’t think I shall see them.
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