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"Please hurry the ammonia;" and Ruth turned away abruptly. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. "Leave him to me," he said.
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