Katy oozed money from every pore of her being. " "Stand off, Poll," rejoined the woollen-draper; "I don't want to hurt you. ‘Mademoiselle. I’ve wanted you—always. There was something markedly and deliberately liberal-minded in his manner in all their encounters. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me.
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