The Times slipped from his fingers. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. "Confusion!" he cried; "something has happened. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. "If you've a fancy for the girl, we might do it. They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight. You’ve got me.
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