She glanced at him. Mr. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down. Wood. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value.
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