"Don't touch me. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. Here goes. Trenchard glanced at the document. Oh! that I should live to be father-in-law to a peer of France! What would my poor wife say to it, if she could come to life again? Oh, Thames!—my lord marquis, I mean—you have made me the happiest—the proudest of mankind.
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