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"Rot, weren't they?" "No. "Thank you," she said, and left the office. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. “Number 13, please, cabman. The tropical dawn is swift. "Oh, Heavens!" cried Mrs.
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