"How long shall I be here?" he asked. Mr. Behind the poet came Sir James Thornhill. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. Aware of the cunning and desperate characters of the persons with whom she would have to deal,—aware, also, that she was in a quarter where no laws could be appealed to, nor assistance obtained, she felt the absolute necessity of caution. A quick flush stained her cheeks. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked.
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