277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. Epithalamy might do. Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr.
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