\"Yep. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. . Jackson had one of the ugliest countenances imaginable, he had a very fine set of teeth. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. And for many years, that was the way it was. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. "Come Bess,—no whimpering. “I have made over seven hundred pounds in the last week,” he said.
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