No matter. “She thinks that Missy is trying to turn me into a punk or a Goth. Let us part in peace. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fire-side, and informed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint; whereupon Mr. "The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay. “Quite right,” she said.
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