I got a rusty bolt cutter. This young man, whose features, though rather plain and coarse, bore the strongest impress of genius, and who had a dark gray, penetrating eye, so quick in its glances that it seemed to survey twenty objects at once, and yet only to fasten upon one, bore the honoured name of William Hogarth. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. He was like a man beside himself.
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