"These writer chaps are queer birds. . She can't last long. God only knows what I have done, or left undone. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you. ‘—and I love your raven hair, and your bright blue eyes, and your very kissable lips—’ suiting the action to the words ‘—and I love the crazy way you speak English, and the way you curse at me. "There's his knock. Hark ye, Blueskin," continued he, addressing that personage, who, in obedience to his commands, had, with great promptitude, driven out the rabble, and again secured the door, "a word in your ear.
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