You hear what I say, Quilt?" he added, looking at Jack. He noted the strong white teeth as they snipped the thread. " "Oh, Ruth couldn't put it on paper, to be sure; but there was no reason to hide the source. I’ve got to stay at home and remain in a state of suspended animation. "Yes. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. That's a queer yarn. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say.
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