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"Not a single whooper-upter! Nothing but torment and remorse … and Ruth! Children, put your arms around me. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected.
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