Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. “For Heaven’s sake, no,” she answered quickly. She described it so vividly. " "Pshaw!" cried Thames. “It’s something that bothers me. His name was Peter. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. " She wanted to dance.
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