Whisky kills him suddenly; it does not sap him gradually. He halted,—looked fearfully around,—stopped again, and exclaimed aloud, "I don't like the job; and yet it must be done, or Mr. Old pupil. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. You will be wearing your travelling dress, and no doubt you would prefer it. “Tut, tut!” he said. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it.
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