"By the avenger of his family's dishonour—by your brother," he replied, coolly. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. Anthony, when God Himself had found only one man strong enough for that! McClintock shook his head violently, as if to dismiss this dream he was having. He laughed lightly. Nasty, damp passages. “Too greasy for me.
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