'Sdeath! what can I have done with it? Oh! here it is," cried Hogarth, picking it from the ground. I can assure you, I wouldn’t be single again for worlds. Maggot. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think.
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