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She had superintended the packing and assorting and storing of silver and linen, as a matter of course, and it was easy to see that certain things indisputably her own went into certain crates. Nobody questioned her authority, and Clarence and Billy paid no attention whatever to the stupid proceeding of getting the house in order for tenants.
Broken, dangling shutters gave it a blear-eyed look which it made him sick to see, and swarms of untidily pin-feathered chickens wandered about over the hard-beaten earth of the yard, which was without a spear of grass, littered with old boxes and crates and unsightly rags, and hung with a flapping, many-legged wash.
If all wood exposed to decay were similarly treated, we could save about six billion board feet of timber each year. About one-sixth of all the lumber that is cut in the United States is used in making crates and packing boxes. The majority of these boxes are not satisfactory. Either they are not strong enough or else they are not the right size or shape.
It was at this time that more crates and parcels arrived from the Kenmore Precision Tool plant, and Joe dropped his schoolroomlike instruction course in space flight for work of greater immediate need. He and his allies worked twice around the clock to assemble the replaced parts with the repaired elements of the pilot gyros.
Palm-fibers yielded cordage for more nets or finer thread for the looms that now began to clack for at last some few women had arrived, and even a couple of the strong, pale children, who had traveled stowed in crates like the water-fowl. By night the pool and river gleamed more and more brightly.
He was a little older than myself, and we soon became intimate, and, in time, were fated to see many strange things in company. The Clarissa went, by the Vineyard Sound and the Shoals, into Boston. Here she landed a few crates, and then sailed for Wiscasset, where we arrived after a pretty long passage.
A splintered boat and a number of crates and fragments of spars rising and falling on the waves showed us where the vessel had foundered, but there was no sign of life, and we had turned away in despair when we heard a cry for help, and saw at some distance a piece of wreckage with a man lying stretched across it.
The crew came off, swimming in ones and twos to beg for pardon, and the prisoners were unbound and given three crates of biscuit and three barrels of pork and some boat sails to wrap the corpses in, and there was more hurrah-boys and good feeling and port wine in the cabin than you could ever have thought possible under the circumstances. Was that all?
A moment later Locke, searching through the piles of boxes, bales, and crates, found Eva, just recovering from her fright, and in the joy of having saved her by his timely return forgot, for the moment, to pursue the terrible villain, who managed to reach a waiting closed car and was whisked away.
At the back of the store a small open space was filled with broken crates, straw and boxes the debris of unpacking. And there he saw a youthful woman sitting with her head turned partially from the road. As he passed a suppressed sob shook her. It captured his attention, and, with a slight, involuntary gasp, he saw her face.
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