Monday, December the 22nd, 2003
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“Aminadab! Aminadab!” shouted Aylmer, stamping violently on the floor. Forthwith there issued from an inner apartment a man of low stature, but bulky frame, with shaggy hair hanging about his visage, which was grimed with the vapours of the furnace … “Throw open the door of the boudoir, Aminadab,” said Aylmer, “and burn a pastille.”
Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Birthmark