A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. \" Mark was tall and skinny, a mop of brown hair over a pillar of freckles. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool.
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