"Come to my arms, Thames! Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" To repeat the questions and congratulations which now ensued, or describe the extravagant joy of the carpenter, who, after he had hugged his adopted son to his breast with such warmth as almost to squeeze the breath from his body, capered around the room, threw his wig into the empty fire-grate, and committed various other fantastic actions, in order to get rid of his superfluous satisfaction—to describe the scarcely less extravagant raptures of his spouse, or the more subdued, but not less heartfelt delight of Winifred, would be a needless task, as it must occur to every one's imagination. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. The mode of destruction makes no difference. There was no one to be seen. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. ” To remain, she felt, was to concede everything. “The very question shows your ignorance,” he declared. You don’t understand.
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