Wood," added she in a hollow voice, and with a ghastly look, "gin may bring ruin; but as long as poverty, vice, and ill-usage exist, it will be drunk. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. “Poor little Miniver! What can she be but what she is?. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk. She kept opening her eyes and looking at it. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. "Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care.
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