The next moment, an exclamation was heard in the voice of Thames. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. “I never dreamt!” she said. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes.
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