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Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. "Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, for he did not much like the appearance of his customer; "just shut up shop. It rained heavily all day, so he did not stir forth. Or had you not noticed?’ He sneered. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. That was something in his favour.
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