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It would not have been for her an anomaly to read a love story in which there were no kisses. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling.
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