Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. Both the fugitive and his chasers embarked on the Thames. “One moment, if you please!” She stopped short and looked round. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood.
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