"Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. You steered and I rowed stroke. ” His walk became a jovial saunter. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. It was her distinctive test of an emotional state, its interference with a kindly normal digestion. ‘Burned them, one by one, right before that fellow’s eyes. She despises me, I suppose. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval.
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