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"Do _you_ mean getting on?" he asked."I hope so, sir," said Mr. Polly."Get on or get out, eh?"Mr. Polly made a rapturous noise, nodded appreciation, and saidindistinctly--"_Quite_ my style.""Some of my people have been with me twenty years," said the employer."My Manchester buyer came to me as a boy of twelve.
Madden had lost five drachmas on Sceptre for a whim of therider's name: Lenehan as much more. He told them of the race. The flagfell and, huuh! off, scamper, the mare ran out freshly with 0. Maddenup. She was leading the field. All hearts were beating. Even Phylliscould not contain herself. She waved her scarf and cried: Huzzah!Sceptre wins! But in the straight on the run home when all were in closeorder the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her.reczrelsed
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