If he senses fear in the touch of your hand, he'll give you trouble. "Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. So here is your chance, Mademoiselle Charvill. That was the glorious if bewildering truth. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. It’s—Mrs. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business.
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