"I witnessed the bet. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. Sanguine they were not. Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. You're a queer lad. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird.
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