He began to think of speeches, very firm, explicit speeches, he would make. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. One doesn’t want to lose a grain. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. That person advanced towards him. " "It is a diamond," said the lady, in an agony of distress,—"the child!" "A diamond! Here, take the kid," cried Blueskin, slipping the infant adroitly under her scarf. It was ten feet long, a relic. "I didn't imagine for a moment that you'd accept it, but I thought it right to make you the offer.
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