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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Well, I'm the wrong side of the counter to believe much in patent medicines. But there are asthma cigarettes and there are pastilles. To tell you the truth, if you don't object to the smell, which is very like incense, I believe, though I'm not a Roman Catholic, Blaudett's Cathedral Pastilles relieve me as much as anything." "Let's try."
Then one clear line came: The hare, in spite of fur, was very cold. The head, moving machine-like, turned right to the advertisement where the Blaudett's Cathedral pastille reeked abominably. He grunted, and went on: Incense in a censer Before her darling picture framed in gold Maiden's picture angel's portrait "Hsh!" said Mr.
Then he wrote, muttering: The little smoke of a candle that goes out. "No," he muttered. "Little smoke little smoke little smoke. What else?" He thrust his chin forward toward the advertisement, whereunder the last of the Blaudett's Cathedral pastilles fumed in its holder. "Ah!" Then with relief: The little smoke that dies in moonlight cold.
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