Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. Sir James Thornhill's preparations being completed, Mr. "By the powers!" he added, turning his lantern full upon the face of the captive, "he's a nice gennteel-lookin' kiddy, I must say. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. Easy enough.
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