‘Must be still downstairs. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. Earles,” she exclaimed. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. ‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger.
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