His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. Afterwards, it may be different. ’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. Let alone a girl. "Only my darbies," returned Jack, clinking his chains.
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