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I can't give you my hand; but you may take it. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. She had come to the end of her resources. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house.
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