The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. “Go it, miss!” cried one. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended.
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