"And now," said Thames, (for we must still preserve the name,) "you will no longer defer my happiness. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. " The Wastrel laughed. "What will you do?" asked Thames. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. " "Not now," returned Thames, impatiently.
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