A check arrives in Batavia every three months. “No,” she said at last; “I’m a human being—not a timid female. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. She had behaved in every way perfectly. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. Q.
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