It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. I don’t see any good in life if it hasn’t got you in it. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. CHAPTER XXI. \"No, not really.
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