So I introduced him to my father-in-law like a shot. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. "Most persons would have guessed my meaning. I never could. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains.
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