Humph. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; it becomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him.
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