" "It won't. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. "The guv'ner'll be here afore midnight. "How, Sir?" "Except by adoption. ‘Leave it, imbecile. ” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness.
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