“I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. “But how can you?” asked Constance. However, I'll make a last effort to save the poor little creature, if it costs me my life. It was his tall stance and his pale skin that drew him out of the crowd. "I suppose it didn't drop through the ceiling, did it? Are you quite sure it's flesh and blood?" asked he, playfully pinching its arm till it cried out with pain. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads.
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