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Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie.
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