I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. ‘You are there. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine.
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