and I smoking and watching the track up the creek.
`Why don't you talk, Joe?' asked Mary. `You scarcely ever speak to me now:
it's like drawing blood out of a stone to get a word from you.
`Well, I've got nothing to say.'
`But you should find something. Think of me -- it's very miserable for me.
Have you anything on your mind? Is there any new trouble?
Better tell me, no matter what it is, and not go worrying and brooding
and making both our lives miserable. If you never tell one anything,
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