Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. “What can I do?” “Go and see her. I am sure I never enjoyed so much popularity in my life. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage.
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