’ ‘Which is exactly what started us off,’ Gerald said to his friend with a grin, as he gave up his injured hand to the other’s ministrations. Do have another. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. ” “Isn’t it enough that I love you? Turn me now. The dog approached timidly, his tail going furiously. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. CHAPTER XII.
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