While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. I will give you all some tea, and then I must leave you for a few minutes. Let us stay the night here. Get it off your soul.
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