She twanged the catgut under her fingers. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. “I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. "And yet, he has been spared thus long; perhaps with a wise purpose," rejoined Thames.
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