“An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ enquired the captain at length, ‘that you have had the infernal audacity, the—the gall, the—the— Gad, it’s an outrage! You’ve stolen a horse from a priest?’ ‘I did not steal it,’ protested Melusine hotly. " "For mercy's sake, go on!" cried Winifred. In fact he was thinking of other things.
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