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By Sarah Gray

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Sample text

But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I’ll keep my Christmas humor to the last. ” “Good afternoon,” replied Scrooge, drawing the sides of his coat more closely to ward off the cold . . and perhaps, unbeknownst to him, the cold-eyed stare of his clerk Disgut. ” said Scrooge. His nephew left the room without an angry word. He stopped at the outer door to bestow a final greeting of the season on the clerks. Disgut pretended not to hear the nephew, but Cratchit, who, cold as he was, was warmer than Scrooge, offered a merry smile and a word of good cheer.

And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnized it with an undoubted bargain. The mention of Marley’s funeral brings me back to the point at which I began pages ago. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet’s Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot—say Saint Paul’s Church-yard for instance—literally to astonish his son’s weak mind.

We ended up with twenty-seven bodies to dispose of. ” “Oh, pooh, you’ve become so conventional! You never let me have any fun anymore. Remember Kiev, the summer of the Black Death? ” “Long ago,” he sighed. ” She laughed, lowering her hands, but cringing at the sound of the carol singers launching into another refrain. ” She brushed her hair with her fingertips. “Am I bleeding from my ears, love? ” Wahltraud kissed her lips. ” He then grasped her hand and led her forward again. “Now, come along.

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