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On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. In one of the little red circles the doctor had traced that abbreviation. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. Gerald at once rid himself of his own glass and leapt to her assistance. You cannot—shall not retreat.
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