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. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. ‘Alors, I see how is this. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. Clothes. Mind you don't stir till supper's over. You see—I didn’t understand. “It looks all right,” said Capes. Am I quite hidden?" "Not quite;—keep your feet in. " "I will—I will," replied Wood hastily.
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