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Shifa wordlessly passed him a gunnysack from the boat to use as a towel and took over the oars.

Dinah’s little gunnysack hand was soft against my cheek, and her mouth was in a twisty, wavy line.

I had laid in a huge store of gunnysacks, hoping to fill them all with the threshed grain.

In my case, it didn’t settle gently like a leaf, it thudded down like a gunnysack of organ meat.

“There’s three gunnysacks on the back porch,” he said.