’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; it becomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him. Arrived at his habitation, Jonathan knocked in a peculiar manner at the door, which was instantly opened by the grim-visaged porter just alluded to. God knows how you did it. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason.
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