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"No; it's only a fresh gale," Ben returned: "hark! now it comes. Surely he was imagining this picture. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. ” The man contented himself with a nod. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. " "Quite the contrary," rejoined the woollen-draper, laughing good-humouredly. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 21-09-2024 15:26:46
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