I wouldn't be in his skin for a trifle!" "But he may peach," said Smith casting an oblique glance at Jackson. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. "Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home. 'He that woos a maid',— fol-de-rol—(hiccupping).
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