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upon her game, coughing now and then in a subdued manner, as if she
feared to disturb him, going through all the mysteries of cribbage as if
she had been in full practice from her cradle!

Mr. Swiveller contemplated these things for a short time, then laid his
head on the pillow again.

"I'm dreaming," thought Richard, "that's clear. When I went to bed my
hands were not made of egg-shells, and now I can almost see through 'em.
If this is not a dream, I have woke up, by mistake, in an Arabian Night
instead of a London one. But I have no doubt I'm asleep. Not the least."


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