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’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. Oh, it was very bad. She doubted if Manning would even listen to that. Finally she fell into reflection. This was just what he needed. That’s what I mean. She perceived that his countenance was only composed by a great effort, his features severely compressed. I had no right to marry you. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. "My child!" he groaned faintly. Get me an interview with her.
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