If it were but the question of his reason for marrying her, the solution would have been simple. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. The mummies were tossed into the collection. At sunset the swarming abruptly ceased; even the sampans appeared to draw closer together, with the quiet of water-fowl. Their conversation hung. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. She's not mischievous—and besides she's chained, and can't reach you. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified.
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