His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. "Do you hear that! We are not wholly at fault. ’ ‘Probably not. His eyes closed. I shall find him yet. 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. She was trembling a little.
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