But in a moment his sadness left him and he was hotly disputing with Cranly and the two players who had finished their game. If we have any destiny, we have found it in that direction. An ear-splitting whistle was heard from upstairs and his mother thrust a damp overall into his hands, saying: --Dry yourself and hurry out for the love of goodness. Hence Cranly's despair of soul: the child of exhausted loins.
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