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Your
spurs are in a
shameful
state.
Kipling - Poems
) He'd chip his chin to pieces.
Capt.
C.
What's the hurry?
Capt.
M.
You've got to be there first.
Capt.
C.
To be stared at?
Capt.
M.
Exactly.
You're part of the show.
Where's the burnisher?
Your
spurs are in a
shameful
state.
Capt.
G.
(Gruffly.
) Jack, I be damned if you shall do that for me.
Capt.
M.
(More gruffly.
) Dry up and get dressed!
If I choose to clean
your spurs, you're under my orders.
Capt.
G.
dresses.
M.
follows suit.
Capt.
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