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“I noticed him call her attention to us as we passed down the room,” he answered. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. ‘I have a very good mind to do so, imbecile. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street.
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