” He plunged into one of his drawers, and brought up a small gold-foiled bottle. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. The boy doesn't know it, but I dug into his trunk for something to identify him and stumbled upon some manuscripts. Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched her come in, I watched her go. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation.
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