Mike chimed in. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. But, this sad affair disposed of, I will not rest till I have avenged my murdered parents. " "I say, Kneebone," rejoined Blueskin, as he washed down an immense mouthful with another bumper, "do you recollect how nearly Mr. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup.
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