“Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. What brings you here?” “I’m here to see my uncle. John has made me so happy, I’ve been losing myself in him. “Of course. "I've lost my wager. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not. ” “You all seem to be trying to pull my leg,” Sir John remarked quietly. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. . It must have been impossible to see me through that much rain. Oh dear!—oh dear! Be careful of him," she added to her husband, "and get it over quickly, or never expect to see me again. " "Pshaw!" said Wild. Maybe it’s his loss.
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