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‘I knowed he were a wrong ’un, but that. "Before to-morrow morning I will ascertain what has become of Thames, or perish in the attempt. Her father’s step quickened to a trot. When is the game?\" She did her best to overhaul her own appearance for 63 the greater part of an hour, blotting lips, fluffing the brush over her face. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. But you must tell her. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips.
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