” He said. " "Merciful providence!" exclaimed the female. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. ” “You are jealous,” she declared contemptuously. "Whist!" exclaimed Terence; "he elevates his glim. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous.
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