He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. "Was I out of my head?" "Yes. "May I be cursed," muttered Sheppard, as he slunk away with (as the woollendraper pleasantly observed) 'a couple of boxes in charge,' "if ever I try to be honest again!" "Take a little toasted cheese with the swig, Mr. "Yes!" interrupted Spurlock, savagely. But he reckoned without his host. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed.
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