He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. " "What else did you do when alone?" "I read the encyclopaedia. ‘Why, you have heard yourself all that is being said. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. " "Bless you for it.
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