And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. ’ Her face fell. ‘Come,’ she called. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. As Gosse pushed her around it, she felt his hold about her of necessity loosen slightly. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat.
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