It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. Profligate women are never reclaimed. She must not show anything. “I’m thirsty. " CHAPTER XV. Give me your hand. Her eyes were wide open with amazement. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. Mary is very good, but she is too nervous to be the slightest protection. That was one of the compensations for having consigned himself to this part of the world.
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