He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. But those days are over—quite over. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. It keeps dangling in front of my eyes. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them. As he looked around, he beheld an incessant stream of passengers hurrying on below. "Come along, my sly shaver.
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