In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this. “I ought to have done anything! “What’s a man for? “Friendship!” He doubled up his fist, and seemed to contemplate thrusting it through the window. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. I shouldn't care to express an opinion. I'm told he's so handsome. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed.
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