As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. I’ll give you grandpére!’ ‘But milor’—’ ‘Pardon!’ No longer master of his actions, the general lurched forward, waving his cane. In doing this, he chanced to raise his eyes and half fancied he beheld, shaded by a pillar at the extremity of the western aisle, the horrible countenance of the thief-taker. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife.
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