Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. O'Higgins. . The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance.
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