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” “You’ll get them,” he said. " "Then I owe my life to her?" "Positively. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. CHAPTER XX. Pray, walk in. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. .
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