"Is it poison?" she asked. . . After I took the bills it was too late to turn back. . “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. . Marvel, who had been a little discomposed by the treatment he had experienced on Holborn Hill, very composedly filled and lighted his pipe.
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