The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. ” “It certainly was,” she admitted. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. Ah, Thierry and Poussaint, if my memory serves me. I hate what I have to do to survive. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour.
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