” John looked at her sympathetically. “Lucy, my brother is home and I borrowed the cash from him. “You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do.
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