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Mr. Johnston smiled. "Very well. The girl with the handkerchief to her eyes, the one dressed in white and blue, five seats down, will come forward for punishment." "What's the distance to Rio, Captain Weaver?" asked the Admiral. "Elgin Scraff," spoke up Billy, promptly..
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They gently rolled the dead, or dying, man on to his back, and the nature of his injury appeared. He was clothed in white trousers, a light blue coat, and a shirt the front of which was ornamented by some light tracing like flowers. He was without a cravat, and his head was uncovered. The left side of his shirt was soaked in blood, and the singed hole through which the bullet had passed from the weapon whose muzzle he had pressed to his breast, was visible in the thick of the dark crimson dye. His face was marble-white. It wore an expression of torture. His lips were parted and grey. The eyelids were half-closed, and the whites of the eye only were visible. "I will nurse him," cried Lucy. "Oh, Jerusalem!" gasped Billy, "An' me without my rabbit foot charm." He realized where Croaker was leading him—straight to the haunted house. He wiped his streaming face on his sleeve and determined he'd go through with it. "Oh, I have no taste for acting. I have no ambition to be an actress. This effort was forced upon me. How was I to disgust him, sir?".
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