" "He's coming!" cried Jack, stamping his foot, with vexation. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. The watch was again consulted. The Ragged Edge. From me. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter. Yes, yes, there is no doubt about it.
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