“I didn’t ask you to get married. 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. I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. Things happened frequently over here that wouldn't happen in the States once in a hundred years. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. “To be frank with you, Lady Lescelles, when your brother asked me the other day to be his wife I was under a false impression as regards his relations—with some other person.
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