A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way. He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. Prudence? Mr Remenham’s sister that was.
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