Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here.
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