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It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. "Yes, sir," said McClintock, as he sat down; "that's South Sea stuff, that yarn of yours. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. Look at these walls.
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