There’s no logic in these things. It feels like I’ve got a snake of mucus stuffing my entire throat, just one big solid rope. Earles. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. Twenty-one, twenty-two.
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