But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. The windows which were about nine feet from the floor, had no glass; but were secured by thick iron bars, and an oaken beam. The boat in which he rode was not overset. There was no response. Her father—man of rock—had never needed her, whereas Hoddy, even if he did not love her, would always be needing her. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. The tired woman looked quietly at her. She could not realize what she saw. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours.
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