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She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. ‘No, but I seen the light, sir.
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