His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. Something about the girl had suggested an idea. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. It isn't for their sakes, it's for your own.
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