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The clerk disappeared, and Joseph Frowenfeld paused an instant in the door and then advanced, with a buoyant good-morning. "Good-morning," responded M. Grandissime. He smiled and extended his hand, yet there was a mechanical and preoccupied air that was not what Joseph felt justified in expecting. "How can I serve you, Mr. Frhowenfeld?" asked the merchant, glancing through into the counting-room.
"Rhaoul? Oh yes, I rhecommend Rhaoul to you. As an assistant in yo' sto'? the best man you could find." "Thank you, sir," said Joseph, coldly. "Good-morning!" he added turning to go. "Mr. Frhowenfeld," said the other, "do you evva rhide?" "I used to ride," replied the apothecary, turning, hat in hand, and wondering what such a question could mean.
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