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Fairbanks, AK, 99712. “What do you mean?” she asked. After a certain amount of manœuvring, however, he was induced to crawl around, and in a few minutes came to stop again before a tall brightly-painted house, which seemed like an oasis of colour and assertive prosperity in a long dingy row. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible.
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