He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. She wouldn't be able to pass by anywhere without folks turning their heads. ‘Playing games to tease me, that’s all he can think of doing. "I don't know his name.
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