She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life. . Wood, softening her asperity.
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