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She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. He stopped short of a group of adolescent saplings and turned the ignition off.
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