In the bad light he looked at once military and sentimental and studious, like one of Ouida’s guardsmen revised by Mr. Pause. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “John, that is what you say now. Being in a great hurry, he took little heed where he set his feet; and a board giving way, he must have fallen, if he had not grasped a large plank laid upon the transverse beam immediately over his head. ” “You have it,” he declared confidently.
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