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I t-t-t-t " A stuttering-fit seized him; then, with an effort of will, he calmed himself. "Don't think I'm crazy. I was never more sane, never cooler, in here." He tapped his head with his finger. "But I'm tired, that's all, tired of waiting." "Won't you go to your room and let me call a doctor?" "Not yet. Wait!
I fell down like a sack of flour pata tunfate!" "T-t-t-t!" exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, holding up her hands and drawing in her breath as she clacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "T-t-t-t! What a pity!" "And when I came to my senses I had fainted, you understand I was sitting on the old straw chair and papa was holding my hands in his and calling me his angel! Capperi!
He sat in Morel's armchair awkwardly. It was too great a familiarity. But the fire made him blissfully happy. "And how's that chest of yours?" demanded Mrs. Morel. He smiled again, with his blue eyes rather sunny. "Oh, it's very middlin'," he said. "Wi' a rattle in it like a kettle-drum," said Barker shortly. "T-t-t-t!" went Mrs. Morel rapidly with her tongue.
"What am I supposed to be doing," he said, looking at her laughing; "cleaning shoes or dibbling with love? Answer me that!" "Just whichever I please," she replied. "I'm your boot-boy for the time being, and nothing else!" But they remained looking into each other's eyes and laughing. Then they kissed with little nibbling kisses. "T-t-t-t!" he went with his tongue, like his mother.
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