Plainly. Without whisky," went on McClintock, "your irritability is beyond tolerance. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. "But I happen to be an honest man myself. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. “And children must we women bear— “Oh, damn!” she cried, as the hundred-and-first couplet or so presented itself in her unwilling brain. "O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood.
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