John looked at his feet bashfully. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. You shall behold him. He might spend the rest of his days at McClintock's in perfect security.
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