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so surprising, faces grown dim. . . . Perhaps, men’s passions in the dusk,on of the few casual words heard in my early youth evWWW.9877.ccoked the memories of that distant tWWWW.9877.ccWW.9877.ccime when everything was so fresh, shadows of hills in the sunshine, so venturesome, so interesting; bits of strange coasts under the stars, gossip half-forgotten, there still was in the world something to write about. Yet I did not see anything at first in the mere story. A rascal steals a large parcel of a valuable commo, perhaps,