“We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. ’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. I barely prevailed sometimes, but in the end, my wits were faster than their steel. He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre.
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