Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. For a few moments, Thames regarded the little girl through the half-opened door in silence. “These are her rooms,” she said. She has never done a really ignoble thing that I know of— never. It struck the major that she was very young.
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