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There is the key. Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. After all, life had still its pulsations. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. They’ll know. ” He whispered to himself as her eyes bulged, arms flying furiously.
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