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a web of many textures

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Ah!” said Mrs. Partington, as she stood looking at
the placards stuck all over the front of a store, advertising
damaged goods for sale. It was not a big R, like
those which doctors begin their prescriptions with, but
the simple ejaculation “ah!” and, as she said it, people
going along listened to what she had to say. “This,”
continued she, running on like a wheelbarrow, “is what
is meant by Mr. Jaquets, where he says `sweet are the
uses of advertisements;' but,” — and here she butted
against the word “damaged,” making two words of
it, with a profane construction on the first, that made
her hold her hands up in unqualified horror, — “but,
though the goods are aged, I don't see the need of
putting it quite so strong, — so much stronger than the
goods are, I dare say.” Ike here pulled her sleeve, at
the same time kicking a big dog on the nose, who was
smelling at her “ridicule,” and the old lady moved on
amid the crowd.