175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. You’d think with as much dick as she gets that she’d cheer up. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. " "If you're in earnest," rejoined Blueskin, "give me that bag of gold. Then they appear among the lower things”—she made meticulous gestures to figure the scale of life; she seemed to be holding up specimens, and peering through her glasses at them —“among crustaceans and things, just as little creatures, ever so inferior to the females.
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