Strike the gag, Blueskin. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. I must!” She threw open the door and pointed to it. "At length, I have my wish," continued Mrs.
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