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"You frighten the cull out of his senses. Shouldn't you be getting home?\" \"It's not far. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling.
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