He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. "Clean and spotless, but beginning to show the wear and tear of constant use. I could make away with him at once, as you are about to make away with your nephew, Sir Rowland,—but that wouldn't serve my turn. Mr. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. It's almost incredible. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms.
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