[Trumps by George William Curtis]@TWC D-Link book
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CHAPTER LXXII
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The people he passed seemed to look at him as if they were repeating them.

Distant echoes caught them up and whispered them.

He heard no noise of carriages, no loud city hum; he only heard, fainter and fainter, softer and softer, sadder and sadder, and ever following on, "Good-by, Mr.Newt, good-by!".


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