" "You did right," returned Trenchard. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally.
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