. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. .
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