He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. "No," answered Jack, approaching her, "though, if I had done so, he would have merited his fate. No girl with a face like that….
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