The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage. Wood. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. “How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question.
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