CHAPTER XII. ‘Only me name,’ Kimble said apologetically. ” He never helped her by a sound. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. . So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. " "I should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. . I would not have him know—now—for the world. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her.
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