‘You will like to marry me, yes?’ she pursued. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. Thames sat with Winifred's hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told. Here we are. My engagement at the ‘Garrick’ terminates Saturday week, and then I am free. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better.
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