At the farther end of the Lodge, the floor was raised to the height of a couple of steps; whence the whole place, with the exception of the remotest corner of the angle before-mentioned, could be commanded at a single glance. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. And the grotesquest fact was that she did not so much loathe, as experience with a quite critical condemnation this strange sensation of being kissed. Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. “My child, I do not wish.
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