“I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. The less she lived, in fact, the better. You never can tell. Thank you for walking me home the other day. She gave her a wink when John had turned to ask Mark if Lucy could ride home with them. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. Of course I ought to have some lights over the saloon; but by leaving all the cabin doors open in the daytime, there's plenty of daylight.
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