. . “That sounds interesting. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. " "What a life!" "No worse than yours. Be off!" "Jack!" exclaimed his unhappy parent.
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