John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt. Keep up the clamour for five minutes, and I'll finish it. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval.
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