“Did she? I’m sorry, Mike. Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. Of all the entirely English women I know, you’re the only one with a French accent. I said I’d do anything. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague.
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