In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. Yon must be mine to-night. Earles would permit. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. She returned to these latter, and at the back of her mind, as she looked them over again, was a very distinct resolve to quote them after the manner of Miss Garvice at the very first opportunity. ‘You said it. ’ ‘What sort of “down on your luck”?’ asked Alderley. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. One puts gloves on one’s greedy fingers. He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it.
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