Unmarked6698
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CHAPTER VIII WHERE IS LUCY? "No, er the buried money," sighed Cobin. "Why, he didn't go. He's in the liquor-shop settin' a trap for that rat, Pa.".
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
Billy shifted uneasily in his seat. He was sorry now that he had not paid closer attention to the reading of the lesson. Mr Lawrence looked very well; his colour was fresh, his eyes carried the light which nature intended them to take, but which his hand was perpetually seeking to extinguish by draughts of strong liquors. He had been extremely temperate for three days, and his resolution was producing its fruits in his general appearance. It is indeed surprising how short is the period asked for by Nature even from men who live harder and drink harder than Mr Lawrence, to restore to them as much of their healthy old good looks as in some cases makes them almost irrecognisable. And the worthy old sailor chuckled heartily from his throat to the bottom of his waistcoat. "No! Not without the will.".
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