The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. He had deliberately saved it for last. We’re closer than you think. We'll have some fun down there at my place, Spurlock; but we'll probably bore your wife to death. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. But I forget," he added, glancing at Austin; "it's high treason to speak disrespectfully of Mr.
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