The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. ‘What would you do in Valade’s place?’ ‘You mean, knowing that the girl was here and liable to queer my pitch?’ ‘Precisely. She is in the hall now. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. Her eye met his four inches away, and his was glaring, immense, and full of resolution, a stupendous monster of an eye. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. 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.
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