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“Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. There is no poison that would affect her. Even he was not oblivious to it, and after about two minutes of awkward French kissing, he pulled away. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. Maternal relations. She is a magician sought by all. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble.
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