" "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. ” “Thank you very much,” Anna said. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. I'm his lieutenant,—Lieutenant Blueskin. CHAPTER III. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared.
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