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A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. “Yes,” she said, very faintly. Here, take this youngster, Terry; my legs are lighter than old Nab's. “Diedermayer’s a kiss-ass. " "Be pleased, then, in future not to let your surprise find vent in words," rejoined Jonathan, sternly.

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