" Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. Meantime, as the doctor was splitting his breakfast orange, he heard a commotion in his office, two rooms removed: volleys of pidgin English, one voice in protest, the other dominant. He would know the truth then once and for all. "Teach you to keep your distance!" retorted Mrs. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. "Thames Darrell only waits my mandate to follow him. Compared to most of America, you’re rich. ‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. I'm always shy the price of the ticket home. She is no more English than that set of beggars over there.
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