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backwater runs down to the Potwell Mill. And there, after much parley
and several feints, Uncle Jim made a desperate effort and struggled
into clutch of the overhanging osiers on the island, and so got out
of the water with the millstream between them. He emerged dripping and
muddy and vindictive. "By Gaw!" he said. "I'll skin you for this!"
"You keep off or I'll do worse to you," said Mr. Polly.
The spirit was out of Uncle Jim for the time, and he turned away to
struggle through the osiers towards the mill, leaving a shining
trail of water among the green-grey stems.
Mr. Polly returned slowly and thoughtfully to the inn, and suddenly
his mind began to bubble with phrases. The plump woman stood at the
top of the steps that led up to the inn door to greet him.
"
"
"
"
"
Law!" she cried as he drew near, "'asn't 'e killed you?"
Do I look like it?" said Mr. Polly.
But where's Jim?"
Gone off."
'E was mad drunk and dangerous!"
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