"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter. Oh, wait!’ She seized Jack’s arm as he was about to go out of the room. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. They walked two by two to the car, looking the part of 267 two weary spouses supporting their drunken mates after an all-night bender.
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