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I know dey not reach to you eef dey hit me de first. Eet joys me to do dat sure eet does." "Little g-girl, little g-girl," he faltered, helplessly, his great hands trembling as he touched her. "It w-was you I t-tried ter save. I-I ran th-th-this way so th-they wouldn't sh-shoot toward yer."
"Well," said Miller, "we'll make Will Sampson chairman, to keep us in order." They all agreed to this, and Sampson moved up to the top of the cellar-door and said: "G-g-gentlemen, th-th-this is th-th-the proudest m-m-moment of my life. I'm president of the C-c-cellar-d-d-door C-club! M-m-many thanks! Harry Wilson will tell the first st-st-story." "Agreed!" said the boys.
How can I come dressed like th-th-this?" "I'm n-n-not going to the dance." "P-P-P-Pierre!" "I'm not." "Then I am." "W-w-w-without me?" "Y-y-yes." "Jack, you're a flirt." "I hate you, Pierre!" "Thank G-G-G-God! The collar's on." "I can't tie this th-th-thing." "I'll come help you." "N-n-n-no!" "What is it?" "The thing that g-g-goes around me." "C-c-c-corset?" A silence. "Pierre!" "W-well?"
"Th-th-this l-l-lady wants ter s-s-see how we m-m-mine," he explained in painful embarrassment, "a-an' I th-th-thought I 'd t-take her d-d-down if you 'd w-work the w-w-windlass a b-bit." Old Mike turned slowly around and fronted the two, his screwed-up eyes on the girl, while with great deliberation he drew a match along the leg of his canvas trousers. "Onything to oblige ye," he said gruffly.
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