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He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. It must be the dawn creeping in. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. Wood had been my father, as well as yours. ” Manning tapped with his racket on the turf through some moments of silence. “I don’t know. "But, perhaps, he has not got beyond the room above.
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