Given the proper incentive, who could say that he might not likewise go nobly to some fine end? She thrilled. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. He could scarcely blame her. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that.
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