Cathy's eyebrows perked up. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry.
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