He swore when I tried to get it out with the ladle, and told me what it said. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. ‘How did you get in? The house is all locked up. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. ‘Until today.
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