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They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. " "You have always spoken it?" "Yes; except for some native. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. Capes kept obstinately stiff, and spoke between his teeth.
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