There it was—to be borrowed. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s. The simile started a laugh in his throat. . What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly. Young noblemen ought to be indulged in their frolics. Then she took her sister’s hand. This left Spurlock alone. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how.
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