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She thought of Capes. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. “It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said. They can’t help seeing things in the way they do. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant.
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