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. In olden days it boasted a chapel, dedicated to Saint Thomas; beneath which there was a crypt curiously constructed amid the arches, where "was sepultured Peter the Chaplain of Colechurch, who began the Stone Bridge at London:" and it still boasted an edifice (though now in rather a tumbledown condition) which had once vied with a palace,—we mean Nonesuch House. Anna felt that her words had become charged with a fuller and more subtle meaning than any which she had intended to impart. You say you need a man. Never mind. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder.
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