" Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy. ’ ‘That’s right,’ agreed the militiaman, coming forward to stand before her. She uttered a little ejaculative note of joy and rushed to the bed. ’ She had given nothing away. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. ” “Not for you?” “No. You can live just about how you like. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. I've often regretted that I didn't investigate the matter. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion.
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