Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. Wood scarcely knew where he was. For the first time it occurred to Ah Cum that the young man might not be quite conscious of his surroundings, that he might be moving in that comatose state which is the aftermath of a long debauch. Blueskin, you are a true friend. It’s not you—not a bit.
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