"I thought you were asleep. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. Ain't you, Jacky darling?" "Not quite, Poll," returned Mr. "Drink this, then," roared Blueskin. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. There was a second co-respondent.
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