“Well——” She stopped short. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. It dropped sideways and fell with a bang to the table. At this moment she was staring ahead; and again came the opportunity to study her. Her two new friends did their best to entertain her. We were only—les autres.
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