She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. Sir Rowland," he added, in a deep whisper, "do you agree to my terms?" "I do," answered Trenchard, in the same tone. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile.
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