"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. ” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. Peste, she had forgot the sword.
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