Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. You are afraid of the warmth in your blood. "You speak English better than I do," said O'Higgins, as the coolies jogged across the bridge toward the gate. CHAPTER XXI. Mr. "There's a guinea to drink our health," she added, slipping a piece of money into his hand.
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