Spare me yet a little while, Father! not for my own sake, but for the sake of this poor babe. "No; I don't think I'd laugh. “I suppose you could at least tune it for us if you know how to play. “Let’s go. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against.
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