R. Joseph Gibbs finished his half-pint in the private bar of the Red Lion with the slowness of a man unable to see where the next was coming from, and, placing the mug on the counter, filled his pipe from a small paper of tobacco and shook his head slowly at his companions. "All I ask for--is work," said Mr. Gibbs, impressively. "Not slavery, mind yer, but work."…
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