“Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. The investigators should have thought to check inside the garbage can. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts. Would a hundred dollars interest you?" "Very much, if I can earn it without offending my conscience. He was accompanied by Ireton and Austin. It'll be your turn to save mine next. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry.
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