‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself.
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