Death belongs to God, young man. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. 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. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber. She did not resist him, she could not. She threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head. She led him up the long hall solemnly. She has an excellent remedy for a sprain. Wood started to his feet.
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