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Updated: May 6, 2025
And now, by the impish words of Falstar's Billy, he was brought face to face with a possibility that staggered and unnerved him. Joyce and Jude, or Joyce and Jock Filmer, had been possibilities in Jared's distant future.
It reserved its opinion until it had drunk on them. Soon after the revelation Birkdale went home without a word having been spoken by any one on the subject so suddenly thrust upon their notice. Jared had gone home to assure himself that Joyce had actually grown up to the extent of making Billy Falstar's remarks possible. The afternoon's contemplation had caused him some astonishment.
"No," gasped Peggy, and she felt that the heavens were about to open. "He wants to be different so he can spark her!" "Spark?" Peggy panted inanely as if the word were of foreign tongue. "Yep, spark." "Her?" "Yep. Her. Miss Drew." Peggy's jaw dropped. Since the sudden opening of the door, and Billy's unlooked-for entrance, events had crowded upon Peggy Falstar's horizon.
Jude did not take this pleasantry as one might suppose he would. His own primitive aversion to the strange, deformed child made him weakly sensitive. He recoiled from Falstar's gibe with a sneaking shame he dared not defend by a physical outburst. "He ain't a very handsome chap," he returned foolishly, "don't favour either father or mother hey?"
"Him and me was going by Falstar's the other day, and Peggy was washing uncommon hard. Drew, he steps close to the tubs and says he, 'I tell you, Mrs. Falstar, I don't know no better religion than getting the spots out instead of slighting them.
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