“I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed.
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