Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. “I’m mostly self-taught. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet.
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