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"Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. "Read that. . You will have to tell me. "I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. "Adieu, my worthy uncle. " "So she may," returned Jack, brightening up; "it's a good idea. He's a model of conjugal attachment and fidelity, a pattern to his family, and an example to his neighbours. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. "These writer chaps are queer birds. That is where I first knew him.
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