He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. He's going to ask you to Prom.
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