Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. The whole was then fired, and in a few minutes the room was a blaze. No! That was impossible. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. Angelina's distress over these mischances was pathetic.
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