192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. “She can’t. “He’s quite the inventor. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Wood's," was the reply. " "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. The joke of it is that he’s married to her now, and cuts me dead.
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