F. He laughed to hide his uneasiness. On the fifth day he had ventured speech with her. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. Vorsack echoed him. ‘You are related to General Lord Charvill?’ ‘Monsieur le baron, he is my grandpére,’ she confirmed. . . Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort.
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