Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. These cogitations were interrupted by the entrance of the doctor. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. "Is your father alive?" "No," returned Thames; "he was assassinated while I was an infant. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. ‘Why not a French flag?’ ‘Because I don’t believe that fool Pottiswick could tell French from Arabic, even if he heard it as he says he did—which I take leave to doubt. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me.
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