Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. ‘Didn’t mean it, love. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. I beg that you will consider me your friend. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. In spite of his shrieks, the miserable Jew was then dragged into the wellhole, and the rope being tied round his neck, he was launched from the bridge. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. The Idle Apprentice II.
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