" "And why not, old saltwater?" inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. Can’t travel alone, a pair of nuns. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to.
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