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CHAPTER XXII
THE IMITATOR
AT THE dinner-table, that evening, Penrod surprised his family by remarking, in a voice they had never heard him attempt—a lawgiving voice of intentional gruffness:
"Any man that's makin' a hunderd dollars a month is makin' good money."
"What?" asked Mr. Schofield, staring, for the previous conversation had concerned the illness of an infant relative in Council Bluffs.
"Any man that's makin' a hunderd dollars a month is makin' good money."
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