What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. "I thought you were asleep. Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house.
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