—Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. I'll not forget your two mistresses, Jack. A boy like John’s dashing friend David Mitchell, someone who shares your love of academics. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner.
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