He knew me, Nigel. He moaned. The man was my husband. “I knew Mr. I can't give you my hand; but you may take it. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes.
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