—Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. But I swear she ain’t told me nothing more, sir. ’ ‘Exactement. . . These were presently joined by a regiment of foot. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action.
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