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his breast—made a bow to the ground, and shut the door.
—I have left Trim my bowling-green, cried my uncle Toby—My father smiled—I have left him moreover a pension, continued my uncle Toby—My father looked grave.
CHAP. V.
Is this a fit time, said my father to himself, to talk of Pensions and Grenadiers?
CHAP. VI.
When my uncle Toby first mentioned the grenadier, my father, I said, fell down with his nose flat to the quilt, and as suddenly as if my uncle Toby
