But he promised to give me a couple of guineas if I'd ascertain whether it fitted your locks. 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. She calls him a pig, and she says he ain’t Valade. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. . How she needed him! Next moment, she had wrenched open the door, and was confronting her guard.
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