" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. Remarking that they struck off at a turning on the left, he took the same road, and soon found himself on Paddington-Green. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not. Parbleu, but I will certainly kill him this time. John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy.
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