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Updated: June 20, 2025
He let it hang. If not exactly a leading question, it was certainly a hinting statement. Mike shook his head. "I don't know anything, Captain. Honestly I don't." If Space Service regulations had allowed it, Captain Sir Henry Quill, Bart., would have worn a walrus mustache. And if he'd had such a mustache, he would have whuffled it then. As it was, he just blew out air, and nothing whuffled.
"I knew you must have had some common inspiration." "I am greatly indebted to Black. He's one of the finest fellows I know. He's done me more than one good turn, but I shall always count Sark his chiefest achievement," said Graeme heartily. The wind howled round the house, and whuffled in the chimney, and sent spurts of sweet-scented smoke to mingle with the fuller flavour of Graeme's tobacco.
"Shut up," she warned him. Webber beckoned and she nudged him to move out of the flitter. "Slow and careful." Kieran slid out of the flitter. Big glistening eyes swung to watch him. The eating stopped. Some of the little ones scuttled for the trees. Kieran froze. Webber hooted and whuffled some more and the tension relaxed. Kieran approached the group with Paula.
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