He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. You don’t want to miss the sport. "But you are tired!" "I want to go over the story again. Blueskin is booked.
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