So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. I asked her to marry me, and she consented.
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