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 "Yes," answered the other, grimly. "I think she must be."

"I don't blame you, then; 'pon my soul I don't! She was only about eighteen when she came to me, but she had every boy there on his knees to her, I fancy!"

"And did she—was she?"

"Not that I know of; she seemed too busy for affairs, I think." There was silence for a moment. "And this note, Miles?"

Miles took it from his pocket and tossed it along the seat.

"Read it," he said. Hunter did so, scowling and puffing thick clouds of smoke from under his ragged moustache. When he had finished he returned the paper to its envelope thoughtfully.

"Well, she used to be a girl who knew her own mind, old chap," he