"Sometimes a cup of lies is a cheering thing," replied the trader. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. —Strype's Stow. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. “In five minutes I shall be ready.
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