‘But the major—’ ‘The major can say nothing at all. ’ A burning at his chest, the general ground his teeth. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen.
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