She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. She was quite assured that she would never see him again. You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair.
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