‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. I wonder ——” “London is a huge place,” Brendon said. " "Here!" ejaculated Wood, with a look of alarm. But, no. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. CHAPTER I. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. She said that your mother was only fifteen when she went to live with them.
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