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It was already dark as dark at least as a clear night in the English June can be when Skinner or his head at any rate came into the bar of the Jolly Drovers and said: "Ello! You 'aven't 'eard anything of thith 'ere thtory bout my 'enth, 'ave you?" "Oh, 'aven't we!" said Mr. Fulcher.
"We fed 'em up to yethterday, thwelp me," said Mr. Skinner, "But thith morning we didn't dare, Thir. The noithe of the waptheth wath thomething awful, Thir. They wath coming ont dothenth. Ath big ath 'enth.
He was dressed to the Enth, and as I glanced at his good-looking, intelligent face, I thought how incongruous it seemed for him to degrade himself with drink at this supper, and return, as he probably would, a pitiable object to look at and listen to. "Going to work, eh?" I nodded. Howard hitched the cape of his overcoat straight, and went out. As he shut the door I sprang suddenly to my feet.
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