“My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. “He’s got good taste, you know. The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. Blood, they say, won't come out. I don’t see that men need bank it with the women. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. Honestly, I never did. She was making it up.
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