“But I am at singing-pitch. I am not come here to play the part of your father-confessor. ” The money would be available in the afternoon, and she would send him four five-pound notes. “To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?” “I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw. Most of my people are upstairs dressing for dinner. 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.
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