Poor Ben was not so fortunate. In concealing himself behind the timber, Mr. He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. Heaven forbid. "I understand," she said. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing.
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