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Captain Acton bowed, but his distress was lively. "Well, by ding! I don't know but what I do mind. What if you should take a notion, some day, to carve up the side of this buildin', hey?" "Now teacher," he said, dropping into a seat by the fire, "give us the news.".
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Conrad
Softly the last note died, and then the player emerged from the grove. He was little and bent. He wore a ragged suit of corduroys and a battered felt hat with a red feather stuck jauntily in its band. His face was small, dark, and unshaven. In one grimy hand he carried a small demijohn. Arriving opposite Caleb, he lifted his battered hat and bowed low as a courtier would do. A long time Wilson stood pondering. When at length he bestirred himself a full moon swam above a transfigured world. A silvery sheen swept softly the open spaces; through the trees the white bay-waters shimmered; the clearing fires had receded to mere sparks with silvery smoke trails stretching straight up towards a starred infinity. Shortly after breakfast he left the house and walked by way of the lane to the Harbour. "Well, what kind of a feller is he, anyway? Come, answer up.".
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