[Trumps by George William Curtis]@TWC D-Link book
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CHAPTER XIII
17/21

You keep cutting me off just as I am saying how I--" "You need go no further, Sir," said Miss Newt, coldly, rising and standing by the table; while Zephyr Wetherley, red and hot and confused, crushed his handkerchief into a ball, and swept his hand through his hair, wagging his foot, and rubbing his fingers together.

"I understand, Sir, what you wish to say, and I desire to tell you only--" "Just what I don't want to hear! Oh dear me! Please, please, Miss Newt!" entreated Zephyr Wetherley.
"Mr.Wetherley," interrupted the other, imperiously, "you wish to ask me to marry you.

I desire to spare you the pain of my answer to that question by preventing your asking it." Mr.Wetherley was confounded.

He wrinkled his brows doubtfully a moment--he stared at the floor and at Miss Newt--he looked foolish and mortified.

"But--but--but--" stammered he.


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