" "For an old bachelor?" "A human old bachelor. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. But Jonathan, fixing a terrible look upon him, cried. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. "And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames.
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