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Davy lets fly an oath and storms out of the hold. We hear his fist hit the wall as he leaves. you really are an evil girl, says Jaimy. I know, I murmur. I shall have to pay.

L.A. Meyer

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L.A. Meyer
Age: 72 †
Born: 1942
Born: January 1
Died: 2014
Died: July 29
Author
Novelist
Louis A. Meyer
Shall
Fists
Hear
Lets
Evil
Storm
Girl
Leaves
Davy
Really
Pay
Murmur
Wall
Fist
Hold
Storms
Says
Oath

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Ah Padriac. I have often wondered if boys who have flaming red hair up top also have...yep.
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If I take a tumble, I'll mae quite a splash, but at least I won't smash against the deck and make a mess. Still be dead, though.
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Why did I follow her? If you must know, Sir, it was easy. Pound for pound, Puss-in-Boots was the best commander I ever served under.
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I'm really a peaceful sort of coward.
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But surely we are not allowed... Allowed? I counters. We're allowed to do anything in this world until someone says we ain't allowed and that someone can back it up.
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Hmmmm...There certainly are a lot of pretty boys in this world.
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You've got to think of the fine times you had with your mate, not the moment of his perishin'. Every tear you shed now only wets his windin' sheet and disturbs his rest
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What's the matter Jaimy? Ain't-cha never seen a girl before? -Jacky Faber
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When in Boston, I shall be able to take you out to dinner, if not to bed. I should greatly prefer the latter, but I must accept my lot.
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I close my eyes, hoping to slip into the same dream again, but then that never happens, does it?
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men i swear. -jacky faber
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And if that is the Foremast, what do you think that sail might be called, Mr. Wheeler? The Foresail? Very good, Mr. Wheeler, and the next one up would be called... ...The Next Sail, Sir? Alas, no, Mr. Wheeler.
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A girl what's born for hangin' ain't likely to be drowned.
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The pants come down. Most look shamefaced, but tha Arthur McBride is not the least bit shy about showing off his equipment, oh no, he isn't. He grins in my direction. 'Not all that impressive, boyo
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Well,' I shrug, all innocent, 'we all ride our little hobbyhorses, don't we, Mr. Peel?
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