“You have the ideas. Wood; "I'll not bear it. 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 leaned back as he climbed on top of her and kissed her mouth again. And now her father said she must not go. The key's in the lock, on the inner side.
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