" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. The girl nodded sagely. What she actually wanted was the present state of affairs to continue indefinitely. You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that.
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