Major Whittlesey came out of his funk hole, and went among the men, spreading the cheering words.
In front of the pavement again stretched a flat patch of rusty ground, a sort of little platform in the side of the hill where the sagging drying-lines stood and a chickens' cwtch built of orange-boxes.
The executive is a thruster with ideas to expand or improve the business and his superiors fail to react—for whatever reason—and do not give acceptable explanations.
My father, the eldest son of an ancient but reduced family, left me with little.
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