"Well, gentlemen," rejoined Wood, mildly; "since Mr. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. And instead of accepting the situation gratefully, he felt vaguely hurt! One evening in September a proa rasped in upon the beach. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill.
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