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But he wrote on. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. Speedily recovering himself, however, he rejoined, with forced calmness, "You are mistaken, Sir. He shot at me at the ‘Unusual,’ and the magistrates bound him over to keep the peace. Three a week is my allowance, and, if I get short ones, four. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. ’ ‘I do.

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