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"Well?" His mother's voice dispelled the vision. "Are you goin' to answer me, Willium?" Once safely out on the road they paused to look back. Mrs. Wilson stood, the picture of amazement. "Have you gone stark and ravin' crazy, Anson?" she asked sternly. Then, anger mastering her, she reached for the broom standing in the corner. Anson promptly made his escape, but as he passed the open window, he gazed wildly in at his mother and cried again: "Don't you have nuthin' to do with that gold, Ma. If you do we'll all get burnt up in our beds, er get clawed to tatters!".
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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🌈 Embrace the cultural essence of saving with our Piggy Bank under 50 rs. Choose a Bachat Dabba that resonates with the Indian tradition of thrift and financial prudence. 🏦🐖I tried logging in using my phone number and I
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Conrad
Mr Short occupied the head of the table, and the oldest frequenter who happened to be present the foot. Mr Short took his seat when Mr Lawrence sat down, and all the people who had come to eat were then assembled. In a picture they would figure as a homely old English lot: men in bottle-green coats, in red coats, in purple waistcoats, in plain pilot cloth, here and there a dandy built up in the latest style, here and there an old fogey who stuck to the fashion of the last[Pg 126] century and figured in a little tye wig, a frill very fit for the harbouring of snuff, a cut-away coat with immense pockets, such as Boswell might have been found drunk in, in Edinburgh, and shoes with buckles. "'You think you got all of 'em, Bill?" Scraff called. "No. What a big ship she looks compared with the other two! It is difficult to think of her alone in the middle of the sea. I can only imagine her lying at a wharf with protecting hills on each side. Does she sail fast?" Then it was that Croaker, gripping the glasses in one black claw, burst into a cry of joyful recognition..
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