” “You’ll get them,” he said. The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage. Better to remain silent. He did not particularly care. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. He's down in Patagonia somewhere. She ought to have leapt back on guard. "I shall need little more. “There’s twenty before you, and Mr. " CHAPTER XIII. “I mean it.
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