. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. Are you satisfied?’ Grudgingly, Jack Kimble took back the coins.
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