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" "Jack, my love," cried Mrs. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. And in that respect they stir up one another. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. " "Come, jump up," cried Blueskin, mounting his steed, "and I'll soon wisk you to town. ’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend.
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