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I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. Once more he was the searcher. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. " "I'll tell you what. Here is one verse. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. “What a little brick!” he murmured.
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