" "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. Her face expressed nothing. And an Englishman, which is my right of birth. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. “Well, I have said what I had to say, stumblingly and badly, and baldly. I was grateful. . \"I wasn't aware that I had rejected him, or so harshly. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris.
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