’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. It slipped out—as did that “she”. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence. Your aunt liked the pheasant. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. ‘I should never have told you. \"What's in there?\" Lucy asked. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. “No thanks.
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