Let me see my child, if he is really here?" "Behold him!" returned Trenchard, taking Thames (who had been a mute, but deeply-interested, witness of the scene) by the hand, and leading him towards her. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe. She advanced, stabbing at him. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more.
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