"Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment. ‘But I do not pay this penalty. I’ve tried to use my authority. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. “I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty.
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