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” Ennison took an easy chair. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. Good-bye aunt.
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