The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. “I’m inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief. ” “Thank you,” Anna answered. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. He said that his life was boring and stupid without her. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid.
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