Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval. One of the coolies held the paper lantern. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear.
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