I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. ‘I do not wish to hear any more reasons so foolish, so do not trouble to think of them. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward.
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