" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. "I don't know what his idea was. She crushed the letter in her hand. He went more easily this time.
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