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"I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. He turned in at the club. Not so Gosse. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. "The key," replied the widow. “I don’t think she quite sees the harm of those people or the sort of life to which they would draw her,” she said. Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,—"scullers wanted.
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