His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. " "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. " "And what—what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. " "Here is the sum you bargained for," rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table; "count it.
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