Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now. You dear, dear girl. ‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. " "Very well, sir. " Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. " "May I trust you?" cried Thames, eagerly.
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