I waited for her at the back. For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart. A young man was playing the banjo. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. A constant attendant at court, he had the mortification to see every one promoted but himself, and thus bewails his ill-luck. There never is much left for me.
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