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Updated: May 21, 2025
The air was heavy with the smell of burning paint. "Where's Sir Portwood Chester?" enquired her companion of the stage-hand, who hurried beside them. "'Opped it!" replied the other briefly, and coughed raspingly as he swallowed smoke. "Strange," said the man in Jill's ear, as he pulled her along. "This way. Stick to me. Strange how the drama anticipates life!
"Yes, Spit-Kid believed it, an' George Anstey and Moon. We were very young an' very curious." "But lovin' an' trustful to a degree," said Pyecroft. "Remember when 'e told us to walk in single file for fear o' bears? 'Remember, Pye, when 'e 'opped about in that bog full o' ferns an' sniffed an' said 'e could smell the smoke of 'is uncle's farm?
He 'opped about that bar 'arf crazy, until at last the landlord and 'is brother, and a couple o' soldiers, and a helpless cripple wot wos selling matches, put 'im outside and told 'im to stop there. "He stopped there till Ginger and Peter came out, and then, drawing 'imself up in a proud way, he told 'em their characters and wot he thought about 'em.
The gun ahead of me went over a child, but only its mother and me saw that, and a house in flames ahead of the gun got a shell inside it, and fell on the crowd that was mixed up with the army traffic. "When I got to a side turning I 'opped off to see how my little lady was getting on. A shell had got 'er estaminet.
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