That was an admission all right. " "All right. “So, how’d it go?” Lucy sighed. " "Faix, then we'll do it in style," cried the fellow. "Ah! I see. I HAD to. She’s got a great imagination. ’ ‘Pah!’ ‘Precisely. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully.
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