Stanley admired and detested him in almost equal measure. “Well,” he said, argumentatively, “it IS. Parbleu, but I will certainly kill him this time. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clockfaces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime,—that is, back foremost,— broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards. Drink, and no sustaining food.
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