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” “The explanation seems to me to be reasonably simple,” Annabel said coldly. Their poor hands!” “I know,” said Mr. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. ’ He sighed elaborately. Gentlemen of the Mint," added he, pointing with his truncheon towards Mrs. " "I didn't want it," replied Jack; "but who are those gentlemen?" "Friends of yours," replied Figg; "come to see you;—Sir James Thornhill, Mr. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. This incredible scene robbed him of the sense of locomotion. ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity.
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