"He will kill me," cried Thames. An immediate halt took place. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. She stepped backwards. 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. “Let me get you some water, Annabel. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. " "Could I credit your wild story, I might do so," returned Thames, with a look of perplexity. At least I can give you a glimmer. You cannot—shall not retreat.
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