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“I believe after all it’s coming out!” said Miss Stanley. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it.
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This video was uploaded to lewoagencies.com on 30-05-2024 15:44:59
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