hopelessly, and it made me desperate. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. I'm no great judge of these articles, Ma'am; but I trust to your honour not to palm off paste upon me.
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