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St. Elmo Mifsud, his angelic face framed in silky curls, now became the prey to the machinations of Pete Solway, who had eluded the vigilant eye of Mrs. Wopp during her dramatic recital. A roar of pain escaped the child as a sharp tweak was applied to his curls. Recalled to matters entirely mundane, the teacher administered severe reproof. “Let me go, please!” he pleaded. “There’s a little girl, our refugee, over there, fainted, I think, perhaps—dead.” “This froth looks like soapsuds,” he complained..
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Conrad
Moses blushed deeply and dared not raise his eyes from the ground lest Isobel should see his embarrassment. “But your school, my child! You must be educated; you—” “Oh, Betty,” he begged, “Pease dive me some.” “The darned old robber!” Billy started up and walked restlessly toward the door..
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