The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. "I am not," replied Thames; "but I insist upon your taking it back at once.
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