Go away now, there’s a good lad. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. " "By Heaven!" cried Kneebone, with increasing fervour, "it is true—as true as my affection for you. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand.
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