” “You what?” she repeated incredulously. 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. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. Mr. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue.
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