As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. Her normally shiny hair was 143 stringy and flat. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. The next hour makes, or mars you for ever. "To-night, your ladyship?" ventured an elderly domestic.
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