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14
THE LAST CRUISE OF THE SPITFIRE;
you come back from the post-office. I want some letters to go in the nine o'clock mail. Here they are."
He shoved the letters into my hand.
"Now don't get them all dirty!" he cried, "or I'll crack you over the head. Be off with you."
In a moment I was on my way to the post-office, three blocks distant.
