" "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. Babies and females have got to keep hold of somebody or go under—anyhow, for the next few generations. She wanted to live. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. All her pride raged at me.
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