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. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. It would have saved me much circumlocution, and you some suspense. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so.
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