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" "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. What she admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. I saw him yesterday, and he told me he shouldn't stir from home for a week to come. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house.
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