She is very bright. Wood a very free-and-easy sort of stare, winked at Mr. \" She looked at Mike. I will tell you what you shall give me, if you like. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. ‘See that writing table? Go and look in the drawer there. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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