He was absolutely unable to focus his ideas. "I swear it," rejoined Jonathan, readily. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. 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. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble.
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