The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. Tears sprang to her eyes. "You will make me the happiest of mankind," cried the woollen-draper, falling on his knees, and seizing her hand, which he devoured with kisses. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. He waited the pleasure of Monsieur. Their small talk continued.
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