Stingaree
"Then you were heard raising your voice."
"That was to my maid. This is all through her. I don't know how to tell you, but she leaves me in the morning. Yes, yes, there was a man, but it was not Stingaree. I saw him myself through coming up early, but I let him go as he had come, to save a fuss."
"Through the window?"
"I am so ashamed!"
"Not a bit, Miss Bouverie. I am ashamed of bothering you. Confound the police!"
When the voices and steps had died away, Hilda Bouverie turned to Stingaree, her whole face shining, her deep blue eyes alight.
"There!" said she. "Could you have done that better yourself?"
"Not half so well."
"And you thought I could forget!"
"I thought nothing. I only came to you in my scrape."
After years of imprisonment he could speak of this life-and-death hazard as a scrape! She looked at him with admiring eyes; her personal triumph had put an end to her indignation.
"My poor Lea! I wonder how much she has heard? I shall have to tell her nearly all; she can wait for me at Melbourne or Adelaide, and I can
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