She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations. In an instant, she turned on him. 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. ‘Gérard, you are a great fool. She always dawdled, so it was easy. "My enemy," replied her son. "You can render no further service to your poor mother. The next morning came a compact letter from her father.
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