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On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. You see, my riddle is solved. I have no right to love you. " "And why not, old saltwater?" inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. ‘Just what I was going to tell you, miss. 123 It didn’t take long. I don’t know. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it.
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