"O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot. " "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. "There's another instance of your wilfulness and want of taste.
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