"My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. Wood's charms equalled your description.
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