What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. " "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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