” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. Her lips were dry and cracked.
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