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How trying it was that Aunt Grenertsen should be so particularly fond of apples! Poor thing! And besides, she was lonely, Mother had said, and had very little money. It was too bad. He had placed himself at the head of a party of banditti, and, pleased with the liberty which till then he had never tasted, and with the power which his new situation afforded him, he became so much attached to this wild and lawless mode of life, that he determined never to quit it till death should dissolve those ties which now made his rank only oppressive. This event seemed at so great a distance, that he seldom allowed himself to think of it. Whenever it should happen, he had no doubt that he might either resume his rank without danger of discovery, or might justify his present conduct as a frolic which a few acts of generosity would easily excuse. He knew his power would then place him beyond the reach of censure, in a country where the people are accustomed to implicit subordination, and seldom dare to scrutinize the actions of the nobility. “How did the harvesting of Aunt Grenertsen’s apples go this afternoon?” asked Mother..
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Conrad
“It seems to me we’re going to get that trouble right now,” said Bob. “As soon as this narrows a little bit, if it doesn’t get deeper I bet we’ll have rapids with a vengeance.” The night passed without any disturbance. The morning arose fresh and bright; the Heavens exhibited a clear and unclouded concave; even the wild heath, refreshed by the late rains, smiled around, and sent up with the morning gale a stream of fragrance. “Indeed?” Aunt Grenertsen looked at the little old stamp dubiously, turning it round and round. “Had you done something wrong, John?”.
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