O'Higgins struck a match and lit his Henry Clay, thereby drawing upon himself the mutual disapproval of the spinsters. "I've the Bridewell account to settle. He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear.
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