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Now my own first business was with a tailor: for the clothes I wore when I rode into Temple, four months back, had been so sadly messed with blood, and afterward cut, to free them from my wound, that now all the tunic I wore was of sackcloth, contrived and stitch'd together by Joan. Arrayed in this, I felt myself again, and offered to take Joan to see the Fat Woman.
His master, as usual, rated him for not working, with a 'Morbleu! why a you not vark, Tom? and stood over him so long that I saw, with some mortification, the book irrecoverably stitch'd up in the cushion never to be retriev'd till the cushion is worn to pieces. Poor Tom cast many a desponding look upon me when he was finishing the fate of the play, while every stitch went to both our hearts.
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