laws alone swamp our small staff. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. The ladder was now within reach. Something in her tone made him look up. ” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger.
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