" "What?" said the doctor, whose thoughts were in something of a turmoil. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. Awkwardly, he closed his eyes and fumbled for a kiss.
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