"And what do you suppose we mean to do with you, eh?" "You mean to kill me," replied Thames, "by my cruel uncle's command. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. He seemed to know a great deal about life. Through all he said ran one quality that pleased her—the quality of a man who feels that things can be done, that one need not wait for the world to push one before one moved. Wood brought up. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes.
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