And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. There was a black fear in his heart. Sailors would leave them at the trader's. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help. It was for ever.
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