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” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. ” John peered at her as she went to him. . . " "Lord have mercy upon us, miserable sinners!" ejaculated Wood, as a fearful gust dashed the water over the side of the boat, deluging him with spray. ‘Do not beg my pardon. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence.
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