They trudged along a little hungry, because of the fruitarian refreshments, and mentally very active. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. " "It is too late," returned Jack, sullenly; "I can't be honest if I would. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. She sat perfectly still, however. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones.
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