But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. ’ ‘Yes, but I’m hanged if I see what your game is. “I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her.
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