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Let us walk about. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. "Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. ‘Possibly,’ he said. “But for you Dad would never have let me marry Lescelles. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. Perhaps because I don’t know. " "That I will," replied Jack, "in the twinkling of a bedpost. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall.
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