My boys buy them with beads or bolts of calico of mine. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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