Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. I had rather have trouble and hardship like that than be taken care of by others. What more could any reasonable man— especially a watchman—desire? Besides, the Marquis, is a devilish fine fellow, and a particular friend of mine. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said.
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