I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. Sir Rowland," he added, in a deep whisper, "do you agree to my terms?" "I do," answered Trenchard, in the same tone. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment.
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