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"You 'aven't 'eard anything about Mithith Thkinner, 'ave you?" he asked
in a pause.
"
That we 'aven't!" said Mr. Witherspoon. "We 'aven't thought of 'er. We
ain't thought nothing of either of you."
"Ain't you been 'ome to-day?" asked Fulcher over a tankard.
"If one of those brasted birds 'ave pecked 'er," began Mr. Witherspoons
and left the full horror to their unaided imaginations....
It appeared to the meeting at the time that it would be an interesting
end to an eventful day to go on with Skinner and see if anything had
happened to Mrs. Skinner. One never knows what luck one may have when
accidents are at large. But Skinner, standing at the bar and drinking
his hot gin and water, with one eye roving over the things at the back
of the bar and the other fixed on the Absolute, missed the psychological
moment.
"I thuppothe there 'athen't been any trouble with any of thethe big
waptheth to-day anywhere?" he asked, with an elaborate detachment of
manner.
"Been too busy with your 'ens," said Fulcher.
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