“Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. It was no use. She hesitated. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him.
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