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Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. ‘You’re only making things worse, you little idiot. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink.
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