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“You’re getting too old to put things off, John. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. " "The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. He couldn't have taken Mr. Jackson. And I wish you all the happiness in the world. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. He seemed to deliberate. Daughters were not like sons.
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