The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. Light flooded the place. She let him have it all, as it was, after all, for the last time. Gay, I've been in many odd quarters of our city—have visited haunts frequented only by thieves—the Old Mint, the New Mint, the worst part of St. "Begone! or I fire!" he cried. Always as black and bitter as gall.
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