" "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. At ninethirty he climbed into the chair and signified to Ah Cum that he was ready. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying.
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