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She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. Solomon Smith, chapmen, (or what in modern vulgar parlance would be termed bagmen) travelling to procure orders for the house of an eminent cloth manufacturer in Manchester. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. " And she burst into a wild hysterical laugh. "Oh! we've lost no time, as you perceive," replied Jack.
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