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 sate with "his eye in a fine frenzy rolling," and turned his inspired gaze on Marionetta as if she had been the ghastly ladie of a magical vision; then placed his hand before his eyes, with an appearance of manifest pain—shook his head—withdrew his hand—rubbed his eyes, like a waking man—and said, in a tone of ruefulness most jeremitaylorically pathetic, "To what am I to attribute this very unexpected pleasure, my dear Miss O'Carroll?"

I must apologise for intruding on you, Mr. Flosky; but the interest which I—you—take in my cousin Scythrop—

Pardon me, Miss O'Carroll: I do not take any interest in any person or thing on the face of the earth; which sentiment, if you