“You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face. A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. But I do not love you. I'm no great judge of these articles, Ma'am; but I trust to your honour not to palm off paste upon me.
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