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"The Phœbe is bound to that port," again interrupted Mr Fellowes. "Yep, an' everythin' else is jest like you said, too, only the red streaks have gone from above the trees now." "Well, the lightnin' part of this un's about past us, Maurice. But the rain's comin'. Guess that ol' elm's done fer. She's dead, though, else she wouldn't burn like that. By hokey!" he broke off, "will you look here?".
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Conrad
"Mrs. Keeler's," his daughter answered. "Billy Wilson left the order." Billy placed his wet, cold ones in Stanhope's. "I simply had to stay an' shoot," he explained. "The ducks were fair poundin' into the decoys. How are the Cleveland fellers?" "You shall never find me one!" he cried with impetuosity. "But I am to win you, and will you tell me the poet or the philosopher who has ever spoken of the strategies employed in love as villainy?" Mr. Keeler had finished the reading of the lesson, skipping most of the big words and laying particular stress on those he was sure of, and had stood up facing his class of boys, to ask them certain questions pertaining to the lesson, thereby bringing all whispered conversation to a halt. He cleared his throat and ran a critical eye down the line of upturned faces. When Mr. Keeler asked a question it was in a booming voice that carried from pulpit to ante-room of the building..
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