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. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Relief flooded her. He told me with a coarse nervous laugh. Yet she never once thought of changing it. You certainly have not shown much desire for my society, have you?” “You have been wrapped up in your politics,” she murmured. The prison was two stories high, with a flat roof surmounted by a gilt vane fashioned like a key; and, possessing considerable internal accommodation, it had, in its day, lodged some thousands of disorderly personages. Then she took her sister’s hand.
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