To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. But now you must be quiet; there's been too much excitement. “Yes. Can you lend me some stuff?” “You ARE a chap!” said Constance, and warmed only slowly from the idea of dissuasion to the idea of help.
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