\"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. No doubt they've all been rejected; but he couldn't throw them overboard. Mr.
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