“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. "You call in vain," rejoined Thames. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually.
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