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Updated: May 13, 2025
The gleam in young Felix M'Guinness's eyes, as he watched the red files dwindle and twinkle out of sight, was to the brightening up beneath his grandfather's shaggy brows as the forked flash is to the shimmering sheet-lightnings, that are but a harmless reflection from far-off storms. And there, indeed, pleasure paid a ruinous duty.
M'Guinness's. Boody stamped her foot and threw her satchel on the table. Bad cess to her big face! she cried. Katey went to the range and peered with squinting eyes. What's in the pot? she asked. Shirts, Maggy said. Boody cried angrily: Crickey, is there nothing for us to eat? Katey, lifting the kettlelid in a pad of her stained skirt, asked: And what's in this? A heavy fume gushed in answer.
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