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Her disapproval was obvious enough. While this was going on, Jack suddenly made a movement which attracted the turnkey's attention; and during that interval the old man slipped some articles wrapped in a handkerchief into Bess's hands, who instantly secreted them in her bosom. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. You had better go to bed. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. “We will do Paris like the tourists, and thank God here comes dinner. But you shall swing, rascal,—you shall swing. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Somehow. She wanted to turn him. I don't know what you have done; I don't want to know now.
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