The tears flowed faster. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. “It is a pity that as nations we are not more friendly.
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