“What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. Do you think we could manage that old clothesman between us, if we got out of this box?" "I'd manage him myself, if my arms were free," replied Thames, boldly. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper.
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