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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. "That's odd. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. She crushed the letter in her hand. Lucy slipped upstairs silently. Spurlock: 'tis Roundhead, sure enough. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild.
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