The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. Prior to the great adventure, her mirrors had been the still pools in the rocks after the ebb. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. He smiled inwardly.
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