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“And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. Monroe would lock the whole group of us in the basement, every day. She withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl.
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