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The Count received their congratulations, for this morning he had won his pigeon match. 'Only think of that old fool, Castlefyshe, betting on Poppington, said the Count. 'I want to see him, old idiot! Who knows where Charley is? 'I do, Mirabel, said Lord Catchimwhocan. 'He has gone to Richmond with Blandford and the two little Furzlers. 'That good Blandford!
'I say, Mirabel, exclaimed a young man, 'have you seen Horace Poppington about the match? 'It is arranged; 'tis the day after to-morrow, at nine o'clock. 'Well, I bet on you, you know. 'Of course you bet on me. Would you think of betting on that good Pop, with that gun? Pah! Eh! bien! I shall go in the next room. And the Count walked away, followed by Mr. Bevil.
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