She took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. 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. Men do not understand constancy as women do. . I don't care how lonesome it is.
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