He told me with a coarse nervous laugh. ‘Exactly like my father. My father died a year ago, by the way. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. "Quick. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. He dissected rather awkwardly and hurriedly, but, on the whole, effectively, and drew with an impatient directness that made up in significance what it lacked in precision.
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