But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. “We have,” he said, “to be the utmost friends. " "Never to return," remarked Jack, gloomily. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. She knew blood was rushing to his face and other places as well.
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