Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. I'm not sure I'd go out with him anyway. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. He does not look the criminal.
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