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The Last of the Mohicans; A narrative of 1757 by James Fenimore Cooper
page 224 of 514 (43%)

"What of the lad?" demanded her father; "I have sent him to crack a
little with the Frenchman. Ha, sir, you are young, and you're nimble!
Away with you, ye baggage; as if there were not troubles enough for a
soldier, without having his camp filled with such prattling hussies as
yourself!"

Alice laughingly followed her sister, who instantly led the way from an
apartment where she perceived their presence was no longer desirable.
Munro, instead of demanding the result of the young man's mission, paced
the room for a few moments, with his hands behind his back, and his
head inclined toward the floor, like a man lost in thought. At length he
raised his eyes, glistening with a father's fondness, and exclaimed:

"They are a pair of excellent girls, Heyward, and such as any one may
boast of."

"You are not now to learn my opinion of your daughters, Colonel Munro."

"True, lad, true," interrupted the impatient old man; "you were about
opening your mind more fully on that matter the day you got in, but I
did not think it becoming in an old soldier to be talking of nuptial
blessings and wedding jokes when the enemies of his king were likely
to be unbidden guests at the feast. But I was wrong, Duncan, boy, I was
wrong there; and I am now ready to hear what you have to say."

"Notwithstanding the pleasure your assurance gives me, dear sir, I have
just now, a message from Montcalm--"

"Let the Frenchman and all his host go to the devil, sir!" exclaimed the
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