He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece. "You'll get nothing out of me, I can promise you, unless you show a little more civility. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. Sir Rowland, who had continued absorbed in thought, with his eyes fixed upon the sloop, as she made her way slowly down the river, disembarked more leisurely.
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