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Howard Eliot guided his charges through the mazes of the city to a restaurant. Moses with the perennial appetite of fourteen ate silently and steadily, not omitting one item on the menu. He gorged. “You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?” “That’s Flash; he always works for his breakfast,” Billy pompously approved..
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Conrad
The disgusted artist got up and with a huge hand wiped his handkerchief across his perspiring brow. He was short and very thick set, with prominent forehead, bulging black eyes, coarse nose, thick red lips. What really ailed Moses was the prospect of bolstering up the pipes again. “Yes, I could eat a graven image.” “An’ well I know who’s makin’ him stew an’ chomp. You needn’t try to deceive yer, Mar,” chided the knowing matron..
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