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"The Luck of Thirteen Wanderings and Flight through Montenegro and Serbia"

"How funny! Why, she would be _so_ thick!"
they said, stretching their arms as wide as they could.
They kept inventing pretexts for keeping her, but when she rose to go
for the third time they regretfully bade her farewell, the daughter took
both her hands and imprinted a smacking kiss.
Outside the healthy-looking wife emerged from the basket hut, where she
was evidently preparing some delicacy to bring up, and showed signs of
deep disappointment.
The responsible-looking man who let her out also expressed his regrets
that she had not stayed longer. In the great street doorway was seated
the husband, but no Jan, no Pavlovitch, so Jo sat with him, somewhat
embarrassed, eating bits of apple which he peeled for her.
In the afternoon we went to bid farewell to the Archbishop and took
Pavlovitch with us. The Archbishop gave Pavlovitch a poor welcome until
he heard his name.
"Are _you_ Nikola Pavlovitch, of whom I have heard so much from the
Governor? I thought you were only a common soldier.


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