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In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. There are some papers I have to look through to-night—important papers. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied.
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