He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. A pair of startled blue eyes looked up into his. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. “She’s going to have some sort of meal with the Widgetts down the Avenue, and go up with them.
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