“Okay. " "And, if you want an additional inducement to do so, I can tell you there's no one —not even his mother—whom he loves so well as you. Milky sunlight spilled on the floor. "One'd think it rained fares, as well as blowed great guns. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. "If so, it won't pay. "I have done nothing—nothing to what I could do—to what I will do!" "You've done quite enough," rejoined Austin; "more than you'll ever do again. “Lady Ferringhall, sir. Do you know that this becomes a habit?” “If you would only teach us all,” he murmured, “how to acquire it. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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