Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. "The long and the short o' the matter's this then," returned Sharples with dignity, "the Markis begs your acceptance o' ten guineas to drink his health. "Plague on't!" added he: "I never meant to take your babby from you. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces.
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