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CHAPTER VII. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. " "Oh, dear!" simpered Edgeworth Bess, endeavouring to hide her confusion by looking steadfastly at her plate. "I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still. “How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see. Here again the clothes were minus the labels. ” She had spoken rather rapidly. He has been a father to me and my child. I wanted to speak to you first. “I ought never have gone to the Zoo, I suppose.
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