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Harry bowed low. Mrs. Wilson passed through the gate, beaming commendation on him from misty eyes. He closed the gate slowly, his clean shaven, wrinkled face working. He stood and watched her until the bend in the road hid her. Then, placing his tall hat jauntily on his grizzled locks, he turned and walked smartly in the opposite direction. "You've gotta come, too." "Wasn't there some talk a bit of a time past of him a-courting of her?" said Pledge..
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Conrad
Hinter's face grew grave. "Perhaps," he answered. "I hope it is." "Now, then," said Billy as he came up, "maybe you'll begin to see that it don't pay to blab so danged much." Croaker, mincing in and out among the rag-weeds, led straight across the yard to a tiny ramshackle building which at one time might have been a root-house. Billy, feeling that at any moment an icy hand might reach out and grip his windpipe, followed. It was a terrible risk he was running but the prize was worth it. His feet seemed weighted with lead. At last he reached the root-house and leaned against it, dizzy and panting. Then he looked about for Croaker. The crow had vanished! Anse nodded a reluctant admission..
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