"But I ain't, Bill. Cross my heart, I ain't," protested Anson. "Why should I be?",
"And Cobin—he ain't any head at all, poor Cobin—did he talk sell?",
Pledge, who chewed slowly as a cow the cud, watched his companion steadfastly, his temples throbbing with the action of his jaws, and said: "Do you believe it, John?".
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