Good-bye, aunt. The risk I run is nothing to yours. In vain he fondly urged his suit, And, all in vain, the question put; She answered,—"Mr. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment.
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