"All my life I've dreamed of something like this," he said, divertingly, with a gesture which included the yacht. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. 127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. ” He crossed himself and grinned. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales.
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