"Still," went on the manager, "they are slaves in a sense; they are bought and sold until their original indebtedness is paid. Something is feeding upon them. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. " "Who is he?" asked Thames impatiently.
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