" "Very true," chuckled Jackson; "very true. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. ’ ‘Ha! You’re Catholic, too, damn his eyes,’ growled the general. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing.
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