In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. “It’s nothing to what I WILL do. If you want advice, your aunt is the person. Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head.
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