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The witchery of the dawn turned the gray river-reaches to purple, gold, and opal; and it was as though the lumbering dhoni crept across the splendours of a new heaven. Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the glory below and around. "Well damn my eyes!" said Private Dormer in an awed whisper. "This 'ere is like a bloomin' gallantry-show!"
'This 'ere is like a bloomin' gallantry-show! For the rest of the day he was dumb, but achieved an ensanguined filthiness through the cleaning of big fish. The boat returned on Saturday evening. Dormer had been struggling with speech since noon. As the lines and luggage were being disembarked, he found tongue.
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