. “His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. She was to be handed over with her dowry of three thousand Florins, plus her pet bird, six chickens, her mother’s fine linens, a small book of poetry. " He patted her hand. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile. “Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next pound, Sydney.
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