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| Outside, the night was cold and wet, but in the small living room of the Laburnam House, the window covers were closed and the fire was bright. A father and son were playing chess, and the father, who had ideas about the game involving huge changes, put his king into such risky and unnecessary dangers that it even caused the white-haired old lady knitting quietly by the fire to comment about it.
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| "Hark at the wind," said Mr. White, who, having seen a fatal mistake after it was too late, was amiably desirous of preventing his son from seeing it.
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| "Listen to the wind," said Mr. White, who saw his critical mistake when it was too late and kindly wanted to prevent his son from seeing it.
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| "I'm listening," said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he stretched out his hand.
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| "Check."
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| "I should hardly think that he'd come
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| "I'm starting to doubt that he'll come tonight," said his father, with his hand over the board.
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| rowspan="2" | "...tu
| "Mate," replied the son.
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| "Mate," replied the son.
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| rowspan="2" | "Na ogar daydenmo teli sen daybur," bedaypala Mansenyor White, har abruto ji nengitaydo gadibuya
| "That's the worst of living so far out," bawled Mr. White, with sudden and unlooked-for violence; "of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-way places to live in, this is the worst. Pathway's a bog, and the road's a torrent. I don't know what people are thinking about. I suppose because only two houses in the road are let, they think it doesn't matter."
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| "Living so far out is terrible," shouted Mr. White, with sudden and unexpected anger
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| "Never mind, dear," said his wife, soothingly; "perhaps you'll win the next one." Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance between mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid a guilty grin in his thin grey beard.
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| rowspan="2" | Herbert White loga, "Te sen hinloka," durki bagor-dwer sotipul klosi ji soti de wajenpul kadam nercu dwer.
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