"Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. " "Silly love stories?" "No; love wasn't the theme. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. But it was her proof. The longest I can go is about three months, but I try and eat once a month. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy.
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