“That he should be in the same world with me!” said Ann Veronica, reduced to reading the list of good things the British Tea-Table Company had priced for its patrons. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. "I know exactly what I have done," replied Spurlock. She was, she guessed, close to the library. So, let's think no more about it. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator.
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