" "Six," he corrected. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. Nobody toys with me. . 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. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. Mr. .
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