\"Would you like some orange juice?\" Larry had already been working outside for an hour, Mike at his side, dragging grass clippings to the compost pile. Wood, with a candle in his hand, which Jack instantly blew out, and darted down stairs. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. “I do wish you and your father could come to some agreement.
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