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Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. We are not animals. ’ ‘Ah. Do you think I would marry you? Rather would I marry the pig in the convent. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. Oblige me by acting under my guidance in the matter, Sir Rowland.
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