"In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. " "Faithful fellow!" murmured Jack. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. Here her strength completely failed her, and she was compelled to seek some repose. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould.
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