Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. Smith, placing his hand on his breast. ’ ‘Pah! One little kiss, voilá tout. Kneebone, what with flirting with Mrs.
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