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No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar thing. "No," answered Jack, approaching her, "though, if I had done so, he would have merited his fate. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting.
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