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‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. . “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. Wood in the deepest mourning. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. "When it thunders, the thief becomes honest," muttered Wood. Plote was sleeping or deaf. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. Don’t think I can’t sympathize and understand. " "Oh, that!" He raised his head, staring at her in blank astonishment. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. “Who’s your violin teacher?” He asked. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year.
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