The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. ’ ‘You ain’t never!’ ‘Back to your post, Trodger,’ ordered the harassed captain. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school.
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