As he crossed the cellar, he passed so near to Jack who had concealed himself behind a piece of furniture that he almost touched him. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. "Here I am, Captain," cried a voice from without.
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