‘I am perfectly devoted to him, as well he knows. " "When you please, Sir," said Thames, coldly. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. She went into shock.
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