‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. She had not been sufficiently prompted in relation to the ways of caravansaries; but her mind had been alert and receptive. Mr. She had discussed the general question of supplies with the helpful landlady.
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