You mustn't go dressing up Tom, Dick, and Harry in Henry Esmond's ruffles. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict.
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