" "Where did you get it?" inquired Thames. " "Never!" shrieked Mrs. “It’s precious unromantic. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. " "It matters not who I am," replied Jonathan, taking the money.
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