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We'll turn the tables upon 'em yet. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. Did he talk a little when you took him into the city?" "No. It's a long time since we met, eight years and more. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. “DEAREST A—— “I lied to you. No; she'd never go back.
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