"Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. " "Odd's me! do you think so?" cried the host of the Trumpeter. Mr. “Oh I most definitely think so.
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