She knew now that he never would. The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. He relayed many details of the location and the beautiful rivers of her home, a subject she never tired of. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves.
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