‘Here you, Pottiswick. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. "Go—go!" "I see what you mean," rejoined Blueskin, tossing a large case-knife, which he took from his pocket, in the air, and catching it dexterously by the haft as it fell; "you owe Jonathan a grudge;—so do I. “For Heaven’s sake, no,” she answered quickly. Sorry to be so nosy.
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