I am grateful, indeed I am. Her little white hand stole across the table. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class.
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