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“Thank you—and good-bye. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. Stanley lost patience. “Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right. "It's Mrs. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. ‘And if it was not for that imbecile of a Gérard, who has put his soldiers to watch for me, it would not need that I make it. About noon, next day, he was able to move; and the gale having abated, he set out homewards with his little charge.
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