Cricket: Don't pinata me!
Don't pinata me!
He calls himself a sprinter? I could outrun him any day of the week!
What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all.—I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.
A swarthy boy opened a book and propped it nimbly under the breastwork of his satchel. He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the text:
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