Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. ‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you.
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