A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. My little maidservant will think that I am lost. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said.
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