He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. The practice has been common for thousands of years. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. Stimulated by the promise of something handsome to drink, the man acquitted himself to admiration in the management of his lazy cattle.
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