" "None whatever," rejoined Wild. Bounding the corner of a garden wall, he came upon his former place of imprisonment. “With your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. And then, there would be the question of money. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily. He resented being regarded as irregular. "If so, it won't pay.
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