Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. 97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. . “I brought a man with me who is posted outside,” he remarked. He seized a tray, squatted on the floor, and imitated the tom-tom.
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