“Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. Glorious! The Pastoral. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. "Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. Come and have lunch with me.
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