Far too old to ask you on your first date. But then, because my papa had no money, you understand, he sent me to a convent. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend.
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