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"Delicious, is it not?" observed Julian Lambert, partly to himself, partly to Miss Cedarquist. "This Moscovite fouette upon my word, I have never tasted its equal." "And you should know, shouldn't you?" returned the young lady. "Mammy, mammy, wake up," cried Hilda. "Don't sleep so. I'm frightenedt."
'Un peu trop d'amour-propre, Frederick wrote to Darget, 'l'a rendu trop sensible aux manoeuvres d'un singe qu'il devait mépriser après qu'on l'avait fouetté. But now the monkey had been whipped, and doubtless all would be well. It seems strange that Frederick should still, after more than two years of close observation, have had no notion of the material he was dealing with.
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