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But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. Don't worry about me. Spurling; "however I consent. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression. But—It’s just this: who was to be hurt?” “I wish no one had to be hurt,” said Ann Veronica.
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