DEAD POETS SOCIETY “Mr. Keating?” Neil called after him. “Sir? O Captain! My Captain?” Keating stopped and waited for the boys to catch up with him. “What was the Dead Poets Society, sir?” Neil asked. For a split second, Keating’s face reddened. “I was just looking in an old annual,” Neil explained, “and...” “Nothing wrong with research,” Keating said, regaining his composure. The boys waited for him to say more. “But what was it?” Neil pressed. Keating looked around to make sure that no one was watching. “A secret organization,” he almost whispered. “I don’t know how the present a
Raja Babu
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