\"I’ve never been to any of Lincoln’s dances. 3. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. ’ He sat looking her over in silence for a moment or two, his thoughts revolving around the name and the way it fitted so exquisitely on quite another set of features. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. ’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. . Wily little devil she is.
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