The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. I've seen him often do it. Stonily he had disengaged himself. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Smith, placing his hand on his breast.
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