'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. You can tell me the rest another time. ” Teddy made some confused noise, a thoracic street row; some remark was assassinated by a rival in his throat and buried hastily under a cough. I’m behaving shockingly, I know.
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