" "Of what am I accused?" asked Thames, who though a good deal alarmed at first, had now regained his courage. The hansom drove off. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. . ’ He received a glare from his captive. Not us. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. When she released him he ran down the beach for a stick which he fetched and laid at her feet.
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