He lowered his voice a little and leaned over towards her. Listen, you. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. "Not my king's," returned Wood. After a certain amount of manœuvring, however, he was induced to crawl around, and in a few minutes came to stop again before a tall brightly-painted house, which seemed like an oasis of colour and assertive prosperity in a long dingy row.
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