"Thanks. I shall try to believe you, though your mirth is somewhat out of place, and has a tendency towards heartlessness." (He is laughing too.) "Yet there have been instances," goes on Mr. Rodney, still smiling, while watching her intently, "when maiden aunts have taken a fancy to third sons, and have died leaving them lots of tin."
jeetwin, "I tell you I have not," says Geoffrey. "Nothing of the sort. You are wool-gathering."
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jeetwin Into a breathless, dewy sleep; so still.
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