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“Will you? That would be great!” “Yes, indeed, that’s a fine piece of work!” There! he had it! Not that he was altogether sure of its being a text exactly, but it was so beautiful! Then Johnny Blossom, with his head on one side, his little snub nose almost touching the paper, wrote, with extraordinary slowness, because the writing was to be so very, very good:.
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
No questions were asked them. Evidently they were taken for tramps who had a little money. “Of course. I just put them in here to keep.” “Sure,” he said. “Let’s go to it. If we get through we’ll know what we want to know. If we—we don’t, it doesn’t make much difference, does it, old man?” Johnny Blossom was as red as a peony from his swift running when he dashed in upon his mother..
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