” “Tut!” he said, fuming, and put out his hand to the papers in the pink tape. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. " "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. "And me," added Mrs. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. You sing better than Annabel ever did, you have even a better style. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings.
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