And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. There it is—against you. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. "I told you I was not unprotected.
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