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Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere. “I heard they came from somewhere outrageous. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly contented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin. So, when I tell you she loves you, I know. You are NOT going to that ball!” Ann Veronica tried a less genial, more dignified note.
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