The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. 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. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. So far it had been plain sailing, and it had seemed fairly evident to go on: “I find it very difficult to answer your letter. Please tell me what your terms are.
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