Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. ’ ‘Eh bien, it is your fault entirely in this case. Her eyes noted it mercilessly. I can remove the prisoner at any hour of the night I think fit: and I will remove him.
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