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" The doctor caught the irony, and he warmed a little. "Bring the light, Nab. It was red and chapped. ’ ‘Can you prove it?’ demanded Hilary. " "It matters not who I am," replied Jonathan, taking the money. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm.
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