"Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. We were to live in some wretched London suburb. You have grown into my life. I didn’t see everything last time. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and girlish. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her.
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