\"May I come in?\" His bravado was increasing. The men have never had so much work to do since they banded. ’ Charvill eyed the girl with resentment. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. The fire still burned brightly.
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