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She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. So far as I'm concerned, nothing could please me more. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. "More slang," he said. Spit of your mother. These things illuminated her situation extremely. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. There was nothing to be got out of the man. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. Very good.
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