I felt—I felt living in a masked world. There was something very wrong. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. She helped herself to the remainder of the slightly congealed bacon, and reverted to the problem of getting her luggage out of the house. " "Will you do it?" persisted Blueskin. She met him by the dugout after the game. "Once in this chair, yer hon'r, and I'll warrant he'll not get out so aisily as Jack Sheppard did from the New Pris'n.
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