Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. She could not see any relief from this anxiety except repayment, and repayment seemed impossible. “Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. ‘Oh, I do love a flatterer. ” She paused again. After all, this could never be the black sheep. After quarter of an hour, she followed. ” “Don’t use such a word, my dear young lady,” Mr. Now, more than ever, it was time to start running.
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