my first symphony!” Brown’s eyebrows rose skeptically. And would you mind hurrying a little. I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. ’ ‘No, but you’ve made up for it since. Easy enough. —D'ye hear?" Still the widow remained silent. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to.
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