Rodney, with the boy at his side, is covering ground in a state of blissful uncertainty. He may be a mile from home, or ten miles, for all he knows, and the boy seems none the wiser.,
"Oh, well, what's the odds?" says Nolly. "Whether she is French, or English, Irish or German, she has just the loveliest face I ever saw, and the sweetest ways. You've done an awfully dangerous thing. You will be Mrs. Rodney's husband in no time,—nothing else, and you positively won't know yourself in a year after. Individuality lost. Name gone. Nothing left but your four bones. You will be quite thankful for them, even, after a bit.",
"You have kept your promise," returns he, solemnly, pressing her face still closer against his chest..
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