He lost control of the machine, was upset and nearly killed. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. I am carrying back a hundred new books and forty new records for the piano-player. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben.
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