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g, there still was in the world somethin85bbbg 85bbbto write about. Yet I did not see anyt85bbbhing at first in the mere story. A rascal steals a large parcel of a valuable commodity — so people say. It’s either true or untrue; and in, gossip half-forgotten, faces grown dim. . . . Perhaps, shadows of hills in the sunshine, so interesting; bits of strange coasts under the stars, so venturesome, men’s passions in the dusk, perhaps,