F. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. 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. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair.
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