gutenberg. “Why not? It might amuse me. The militiaman at once thrust the old man between the shoulder blades, pushing him into the kitchen. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. Give me that precious charge," he added, snatching the bundle from Wood. I am up to the ears in it all— every moment I can spare. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold.
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