” He was bereft of words for a moment, and in that moment she escaped, having passed him on deftly to one of the later arrivals. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. .
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