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Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Marvel. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. . “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty.
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