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Updated: May 5, 2025
S'cure the shadow ere the substance fade. Drunk all the brandy, old boy. Bottle's a canteen; 'vantage of military port to houseless stranger. Brought the brandy on board under my coat; nobody noticed, so glad get me back. Prodigal son's return, fatted calf under his coat." The reprobate ended his boastful confession with another burst of hiccuping, and Staniford helplessly laughed.
"It's the best, though. We hev got to make it s'cure. I don't 'magine she'll care fer awhile, any way. And then we kin tote her back to the sanitation." "Well, we'll see. Now, you sneak off and I'll tuck her in. Poor lamb! To think that she's looney!" "Ain't it a shame! If our'n was alive we wouldn't care if she could think or not we would think fer her wouldn't we, Samanthy?"
At what he judged to be four-thirty a spirited rap sounded on the door. "C'min," yelled Breede. Entered the flapper. Breede looked up. "Seddown! View of efforts bein' made b' cert'n parties t' s'cure 'trol of comp'ny by promise of creatin' stock script on div'dend basis, it is proper f'r d'rectors t' state policy has been " The flapper had sat down and was looking intently at Bean.
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