clarkson new jersey devils

"Are you not a New Orleans boy?" she asked as I lifted my képi and drew rein.

"Smith, Ned Ferry is not only a Romanist, he's a romanticist. We--you and me--are religionists. Our brightness and happiness air the brightness and happiness of faith; our cleanness is the cleanness of religious scruples. Worst of it with Ned is he's satisfied with the difference, I'm afraid! That's what makes him so pleasant to fellows who don't care a sou marquee about religion."

The aide-de-camp laughed like a rustic and vanished. "Smith," said the Major, "your eyes are--"

Miss Harper's keen eyes glittered. "You northerners hardly realize our feelings concerning the imprisonment of women, I think."

"Who don't belong to Ferry's scouts at all," I still more sweetly added.

"Why haven't I got it right?"

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