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“—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course.
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