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In stature, he was short and stumpy; in person, corpulent; and in countenance, sleek, snub-nosed, and demure. We were only—les autres. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Look at it, I say. "No offence," returned Jonathan. She colored faintly.
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