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"Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. The danger or difficulty of an exploit never appalled him. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. Anna was singing as she used to sing. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. Her head swam. And so Misther Wudd lives near the Black Lion, eh?" "He does," replied Thames. It was Missy and Michelle in her grandmother's old Buick.
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