Mrs. He entered the room with his usual deliberation, and looked covertly about him. A man is so apt to—to take women a little too lightly. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. What more could any reasonable man— especially a watchman—desire? Besides, the Marquis, is a devilish fine fellow, and a particular friend of mine. After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip.
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