Mrs. "Stay, dear Thames!—stay!" cried the little girl. Jackson: "ha! ha!" "Not in the least, Ma'am," echoed Mr. ” “Impudent beggars,” Sydney growled. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. “How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest.
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