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"You, Anse!" came Mrs. Wilson's voice. "Have I gotta limber you up with the strap, after all?" Billy waited for no more. He was up and away like a shot. Mrs. Wilson, clutching her gold piece in one hand and brushing back her deranged hair with the other, went back into the house. Maurice grimaced as he licked the bit of pulp from the knife blade. "'Course we both know this danged thing is pisin," he said, uncertainly. "Maybe we're fools, Bill?".
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"My son, Captain Weaver, my son!" broke in the Admiral tremulously. This interior presented a very inhospitable look; its rough-hewn bunks might have been intended for the accommodation of prisoners. The deck was without carpet. Indeed the only colour or warmth which this melancholy hole presented to the eye or the mind was to be found in such wearing apparel as swung from hooks, in Mr Lawrence's sea-chest, in the nautical instruments, in the shelves with their little burden of tin box, a few books, and so forth. "Well," said he, "I suppose you kept your appointment this morning with Captain Acton." "She's out on the bay," answered the father and lapsed again into brooding silence..
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