"There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. And you need not fear that I shall not give back the sword when I have finished using it. Perhaps that was the reason that they both remained standing. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. She’s very special. John said nothing. "'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet.
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