The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. It makes wonderful sentences that you can repeat in the City and are good enough for Punch. "Miss Enschede and Mr. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. ‘How fascinating. Maggot. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. When they reached the door, he kissed her 246 again.
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