He may not be able to eat tin-cans, but he tries to. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. Everyone has gone away again, so that I can do so all alone. He looked down and met them. “Sir John is not at all that sort. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary.
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